Category: English

I’m a seismic technician. The day a major earthquake was set to strike Layla’s hometown, she was adamant about going on a trip with her college crush. I didn’t drag her back to save her family. Instead, I drove there myself, got on my knees before the mayor, and begged him to evacuate the town. In my last life, I forced Layla to come with me. We saved her parents, but she missed the birthday trip with Sean. While on a cruise, Sean fell overboard. They searched for three days, but his body was never found. On the third anniversary of his death, Layla pushed me into the deep sea. “Sean would still be alive if it weren’t for you! Go and keep him company in hell!” She watched as I drowned. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back on the day of the earthquake. This time, Layla got her wish. She went on that birthday trip with Sean. And later, she would spend two days and two nights kneeling before a grave. 1 Even reborn, the phantom sensation of drowning was suffocatingly real. “Ryan, are you listening to me? I’m going on a trip with Sean, and we’re leaving for the airport now!” Layla stood before me, her voice sharp with impatience. Looking at her beautiful face, I found it hard to believe that in three years, she would be the one to kill me. We worked together at the Seismic Monitoring Center. She started asking me out for dinner, one thing led to another, and we got together. But on our wedding day, Layla confessed that she’d never gotten over her college crush. She told me she couldn’t be fully committed to our relationship and hoped I would understand. The ceremony was about to start. I was a fool. I actually believed I could win her heart with sheer devotion. Who would have thought that right after we got married, her crush, Sean, would reappear? They became inseparable. She even brought him into our home, banished me to the guest room, and spent the entire night laughing with him in our master bedroom. I was so deeply in love with this woman that I forced myself to endure it all. Until the day of the earthquake. I dragged her home, we saved her parents, but Sean died at sea. Layla began to hate me, a resentment that festered until the day she pushed me to my death. Now, fate has given me a second chance. I will not make the same mistakes. “Are you deaf? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Layla demanded, seeing my silence. I looked at her, a long, deep look, then pulled a stack of technical drawings from my briefcase and pushed them into her hands. “Your hometown, Stone Creek, is going to be hit by a magnitude 7.0 earthquake at ten o’clock tonight.” In my past life, my prediction wasn’t nearly this precise. But having lived through it, I knew the exact time and intensity. Layla glanced at the papers and then ripped them to shreds. She threw the pieces in my face, a cold sneer on her lips. “Ryan, have you lost your mind? Joking about an earthquake? And predicting it in my hometown? Are you cursing my family?” “You’d really stoop this low just to stop me from going on a trip with Sean? I never knew you were so malicious!” Compared to her murdering me, this felt mild. I felt nothing. I looked at her and said, my voice even, “I’m not joking. Three years ago, the neighboring state had a similar event. The seismic data from the day before is nearly identical to what we’re seeing now…” Before I could finish, she slapped me across the face. Her expression was twisted with a new level of hatred. “Shut up! No one can predict an earthquake on the same day. You’re just a technician. Do you think you’re some kind of expert professor?” “I’m going on this trip with Sean, and nothing you say will change that. If you can’t handle it, we can get a divorce when I get back.” Without another glance, she grabbed her suitcase and stormed out. 2 Last time, she hadn’t believed me either. But I had torn up her plane ticket, smashed things, and physically stopped her from leaving. I drove her to her hometown, and we not only convinced her parents to evacuate but saved the entire town. Not long after, the news came: Sean was lost at sea. Layla had seemed utterly calm, showing no reaction at all. Who knew she was already plotting my death? After she left, I started packing. Half an hour ago, I had filed a formal report on the situation in Stone Creek with my superiors. Now, I just needed to drive there and get Layla’s parents. They were my in-laws; I couldn’t just leave them to die. I hadn’t even pulled out of the parking lot when my phone rang. It was Director Miller, the head of our center. “Ryan, I hear you just submitted a predictive report?” “Yes, Director. Is there a problem?” His tone turned grave. “Is there a problem? Ryan, you’ve been with the center for years. How have you not learned anything?” “How could you fabricate a seismic event just to interfere with Layla’s social life? Do you have any idea how illegal that is?” I understood immediately. Layla was Miller’s protégé. They must have spoken. They both thought I was lying, putting on a show. “Director, I’m serious,” I said urgently. “There is a one hundred percent chance of a magnitude 7.0 earthquake in Stone Creek at ten tonight! You have to—” He cut me off, his tone unyielding. “That’s enough. I’ve already retracted your report. Ryan, your professional conduct is seriously in question. Don’t bother coming in for the next few days. Stay home and think about what you’ve done.” “I can’t believe how unreliable you are. If I had known, I never would have set the two of you up!” His righteous indignation was so powerful that if I hadn’t lived through the event myself, I might have doubted my own data. I hesitated, then hung up and called his superior. To my shock, the man didn’t even let me speak. “You’re Ryan, correct? Director Miller just briefed me on your situation.” “I used to think you were a solid, hardworking young man. What you did today is astounding. I don’t think you’re suited for this line of work anymore. You should look for opportunities elsewhere.” He hung up. I sat there, stunned. I couldn’t believe it. In this new life, I’d already lost my job. But there was no time to dwell on that. It was 6:00 PM. The earthquake was in four hours. I had work to do. I called Layla’s parents. Her father answered. “What? An earthquake? Ryan, are you kidding me? This town hasn’t had a quake in eight hundred years!” “Where’s Layla? Let me talk to Layla.” I took a deep breath. “Layla went on a trip with her college friend. Dad, I’m not kidding. There is going to be an earthquake in Stone Creek at ten tonight. You have to listen to me. Tell the mayor, get everyone to evacuate now!” “Don’t you worry,” he said immediately. “A matter of life and death, I’ll get it done!” Two hours later, I arrived in Stone Creek. There were still two hours until the quake, but the streets were bustling. No one seemed to have a shred of urgency. What was going on? I told my father-in-law to inform the mayor. Why hadn’t an evacuation been ordered? Time was running out. I called him again as I rushed toward the mayor’s house. It turned out my father-in-law was there, drinking with the mayor. “Dad, what are you doing? The earthquake is coming! Why haven’t you evacuated?!” I demanded. The mayor gave me a slow, lazy look, then turned to my father-in-law. “So this is your son-in-law? He looks presentable enough, but his character seems questionable. Lying to people about something like this.” My father-in-law walked over and kicked me hard in the shin. “Ryan! You’re a grown man! How can you make up such lies?” “If I hadn’t called Layla, I might have actually believed your nonsense and made the whole town run around for nothing! Can you imagine the gossip?” 3 So, they didn’t believe me either. I opened my mouth to argue, but my phone rang. It was Layla. I answered, my voice urgent. “Layla, you have to tell your dad, Stone Creek is really going to have an earthquake, you need to—” She cut me off. “Ryan, are you out of your mind? I’m just on a trip with Sean. Why are you being so dramatic?” I heard Sean in the background. “Yeah, man, Layla’s just going to hate you more if you keep this up.” “Just stop,” Layla’s voice was cold. “Or I’ll actually divorce you, and you can get ready to walk away with nothing.” She hung up. I had put the call on speaker so her dad could hear. Every word from her and Sean had been crystal clear. My father-in-law shot me a venomous glare. “Can’t even control your own wife. What kind of man are you?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. I wanted to defend myself, but there was no time. I turned to the mayor. “Mayor, I am a technician from the Seismic Monitoring Center. The seismic profile for Stone Creek is identical to the one from the event in the neighboring state three years ago. I have accurately predicted it will begin tonight at ten o’clock, with a magnitude of 7.0. There will be severe collapses. Please, you have to believe me!” The mayor hesitated, seeming to weigh the truth of my words. But my father-in-law scoffed. “Technician? What technician! My daughter already told me the center is firing him! Mayor, don’t you listen to his nonsense!” The mayor’s face hardened. He pointed to the door. “Son, this is not the place for your jokes. Please leave.” He was kicking me out. But I knew I couldn’t leave. Convincing this man was the only way to save the people of this town. In a moment of pure desperation, I dropped to my knees. “I, Ryan, am not joking. If there is no earthquake at ten tonight, then you can call the police and have me arrested. I’ll go to prison!” “Mayor, there’s not much time left! Please, order the evacuation!” “Have you no shame?!” my father-in-law roared, kicking me squarely in the chest. I crumpled to the ground, the pain so intense I could barely breathe. I locked eyes with the mayor. “The earthquake is coming. A thousand lives are on your head. Can you live with that?!” He stared at me for a long moment, then finally relented. “Fine. I’ll trust you this one time.” My father-in-law was dumbfounded. “What? You actually believe him? He’s just having a spat with my daughter, this is all an act to get back at her…” “If there’s no earthquake, he goes to jail,” the mayor said, striding out the door. I pushed through the pain and followed him. “The quake’s impact radius is five kilometers,” I reminded him. “To be safe, everyone should evacuate at least ten kilometers away…” The mayor listened and began organizing the evacuation. I went back to find my father-in-law. “Dad, I drove here. You and Mom can come with me.” He slapped me across the face. “The hell I will! The moment my daughter gets back, you two are getting a divorce! Then you can be as crazy as you want! Goddammit, you’ve made me lose all my face!” The town evacuated quickly. Within an hour, most people were gone. But Layla’s parents had locked me out of their house. No matter how much I pleaded, they wouldn’t leave. My only option was to call Layla. She was the only one who could convince them now. The phone rang a dozen times before she picked up. “Just trust me this one time, please?” I begged. “Everyone in town has left, but your parents won’t go. You have to talk to them! The earthquake is in twenty minutes, we’re running out of time!” A condescending laugh came from the other end. It was Sean. “Where’s Layla?” I demanded. “She’s in the shower,” he said smugly. “She already told me she doesn’t want to waste her breath on you.” I fought to control my rage. “Put her on the phone. Her parents’ lives are at stake!” Sean just mocked me. “Ryan, is there something wrong with you? Still using the earthquake lie? Do you have any idea what Layla and I are going to do tonight? We’ve got plans you can’t even imagine…”

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1 The moment my parents cut off my sister’s medical funds—again—for their precious adopted daughter, my heart finally died. The feed sighed along with me. 【Scarlett, your parents said they’re not doing it because they like the adopted girl more. They’re just afraid of spoiling you two. This is all just a test to toughen you up.】 【Remember last time? When they made you sell your blood for tuition? And the time they hired those thugs to steal your food money? This is the 99th test. They said if you can just get through this one, they’ll finally let themselves love you.】 Get through this one? But my sister was already dead. When I saw my parents standing in the middle of my tiny rental apartment, having broken in illegally, I wasn’t surprised. Ten minutes after I’d posted a desperate plea for help online, they had used their connections—and their money—to have the post scrubbed and my account banned. They had the power to silence me online. But they didn’t have the money to save my sister’s life. I clenched my fists, listening as my father’s voice, cold and final as a death sentence, echoed in the small room. “Scarlett, your allowance for the year is cancelled.” He launched into a tirade. “You and Nina are getting more and more out of control. First, you lie about needing medical fees, and now you’re spreading rumors about us online! Do you have any idea how much it cost me to get that post taken down?” His agitation grew, his eyes darting around the room. “Where’s Nina? Get her out here! It’s time I taught you both a lesson, once and for all!” He pointed a finger at me. “You. Kneel. Now.” My mother stepped forward, feigning protection. “Let’s just talk this out. There’s no need for violence.” She turned to me, her voice syrupy sweet. “Scarlett, dear, where’s your sister? Have her come out and apologize to your father with you. This joke has gone too far. If you keep being stubborn, even I won’t be able to help you.” Help? When had she ever helped us? She was always the silent observer, stepping in only at the end to play the peacemaker. When one of their “tests” succeeded, she’d praise herself for her brilliant parenting advice. When a test failed, she’d brush it off, placing all the blame squarely on Nina and me. Even the feed had seen this script too many times. 【I can’t. This time her parents have really crossed the line. Scarlett was just asking for help to give Nina a proper burial. And they had the post deleted in less than ten minutes.】 【My heart breaks for her. I guess this is just the fate of a side character.】 A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Ever since Stella walked into our lives, I’d been able to see the feed. I knew that my sister and I were just stepping stones for the story’s protagonist, Stella. We were destined to fail. But I refused to accept it. I fought back, again and again, only to be defeated every time. Whenever Stella framed me for something, I would exhaust myself trying to explain, to prove my innocence to my parents. To them, my pleas were just pathetic excuses. Later, I learned from the feed that they were using Stella to “toughen us up,” and that they secretly approved of her cruelty. Finally, I gave up. I accepted their twisted tests and even tried to convince Nina to do the same. I thought if we just endured it, the tests would end. But it had been seven years. The tests never stopped. They just got worse. And my beautiful, precious sister, because of their 99th test, had died alone in a hospital. Even now, her body was lying in a cold morgue drawer. Because I didn’t have the money to lay her to rest. And my father had just cut off my meager $500 monthly allowance. I took a deep, shuddering breath. When they were finally done yelling, I spoke, my voice barely a whisper. “You can stop my allowance.” “But please… just lend me two thousand dollars. Please?” “Nina… she’s waiting to be buried…” My father exploded. He ripped off his belt and lashed it across my back. “So, you’re still lying! What kind of sister are you, cursing your own sibling to be dead?” Pain shot through me, but I pushed through it. “I’m not lying. Nina was in a car accident. When I called you, you refused to pay the medical bills. She bled out and died. The cheapest cremation and burial… it’s two thousand dollars.” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “I don’t have the money… that’s why I posted online for help… You can hit me all you want, but please, can you just lend me two thousand dollars so I can bury my sister…” They had so much money. And my sister had died for lack of it. The irony was a knife in my heart. My mother’s body went rigid. “Scarlett, what are you saying? Is Nina really…” 2 My father shoved my mother’s hand away and struck me again with the belt. “You believe her?” he spat. “These two have been liars since they were children! Faking sick, and now faking dead!” “Stella was right all along. All they’ve ever wanted was money!” He glared at me, his face a mask of fury. “If you were half as well-behaved as Stella, your mother and I wouldn’t have to be so hard on you!” The last of my resolve shattered. “You wouldn’t?” I screamed, the words tearing from my throat. “But Stella is just a tool you found to torture us! You know she bullies and frames us, and you just watch!” “Haven’t we been good enough? We earned our own tuition! We worked part-time jobs for food! We excelled in school, got scholarships every year! And what did you do? You hired thugs to rob us of the little money we scraped together for food!” “I’m just asking for two thousand dollars to bury Nina. Is that too much to ask? She was my sister! She was your daughter!” “Why won’t you believe us, just this once?” They both froze, a flash of embarrassment crossing their faces. They clearly hadn’t expected me to know about their “tests.” My mother wrung her hands, her voice a nervous whisper. “Scarlett, when did you find out… and Nina knew too, didn’t she? Is that why you two have been making up stories to get money from us?” After that raw, desperate confession, that was the conclusion they drew? I laughed, a hollow, self-mocking sound. “If you still don’t believe me, then take this two thousand dollars and buy our relationship. Consider it severed.” “From now on, I’m not a Sterling. You won’t have to worry about me tarnishing the family name. Are you satisfied now?” Two thousand dollars. I wondered if, after they cremated my sister, there would be enough left to cremate me, too. Without Nina, there was no reason to keep living. Before they could respond, a saccharine female voice cut in from the doorway. “Scarlett, you’re breaking Mom and Dad’s hearts!” I turned my head, my face devoid of expression, and looked at Stella. She was dressed in an expensive couture princess dress, a Kelly bag worth tens of thousands dangling from her arm. I glanced down at my own clothes: a t-shirt my neighbor had thrown out, shoes I’d salvaged from a dumpster, and a cloth bag I’d gotten for free during a part-time gig. These were my parents. They would spend millions coddling their adopted daughter but wouldn’t spare two thousand for their biological one. Even the feed was outraged on my behalf. Stella’s face was a picture of earnest concern. “Scarlett, I saw you and Nina at the hospital this morning, buying fake medical records. How can you say she’s dead now?” She turned to my parents. “Since Scarlett wants to cut ties, maybe you should just let her. We can… we can just pretend this is another test.” I laughed again, this time in weary defeat. How could she lie so effortlessly about things that never happened? I was exhausted. I tried to defend myself one last time. “You’re so powerful. Why don’t you just check the hospital records? See if a patient named Nina Sterling died there. Then you’ll know who’s lying!” But my mother’s trust in Stella was absolute. “Stella isn’t like you. Would she lie to us? Nina is your own sister, and you keep talking about her being dead. Are you trying to curse her, or us?” “You get Nina out here to apologize right now, or she’ll never see another cent of allowance from us again!” I looked up at the feed scrolling in my vision. They were all angry for me, trying to comfort me, suggesting solutions. But I was completely numb. I had stopped expecting them to understand a long time ago. When Nina had the accident, I had begged them for the money. They had turned it into a test and refused to pay. Nina had clung to life for three days on a gurney in a hospital hallway before she finally gave up. In a way, we were all free now. As soon as I laid Nina to rest, I would go and join her. I just never imagined I wouldn’t even have the money to say goodbye. As despair washed over me, my father snorted. “Since you know about the tests, fine. I’ll give you one last chance. Pass this test, and I’ll give you your two thousand dollars.” 3 “And I’ll give you anything else you want in the future.” Stella’s face fell. She clearly hadn’t expected my father to offer another test. To be honest, neither had I. I looked up, and the feed was filled with advice. 【Scarlett, you should probably agree. They are your biological parents, after all. They probably won’t make it too hard.】 【Yeah, and Nina’s body is still at the hospital. You can’t wait forever. How long would it take you to earn that kind of money working part-time? Nina can’t wait that long.】 They were right. Nina couldn’t wait. I had already tried everything. Borrowing money, applying for loans, looking for work… every time I saw a glimmer of hope, my parents would send someone to sabotage it. I was out of options. That’s why I had resorted to revealing my identity as a Sterling online, hoping public pressure would be my salvation. And in the end? I was still being forced by my own parents to pass a twisted test just to bury my sister. The irony was suffocating. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “Fine. I agree.” For Nina, I had to. Stella shot me a look of pure hatred. I ignored her and held out my hand. “But please, can you give me the two thousand dollars first?” “Her burial really can’t wait.” Stella burst out laughing. “Scarlett, you’re really pushing it, aren’t you?” “Still lying about Nina being dead?” She turned to my parents. “Actually… Mom, Dad, I happened to see Scarlett outside a hotel with a boy the other day. This two thousand dollars, I wonder if she’s…” She trailed off, her eyes darting pointedly to my stomach. My parents’ suspicion was instantly ignited. My mother’s hand flew out and slapped me across the face. “Scarlett! You’re only eighteen and you’re already fooling around with men? You want two thousand dollars from us? Not a chance!” My father’s face was grim. “You want two thousand dollars that badly? Fine. Here’s your final test.” “Earn two thousand dollars in one week.” Stella couldn’t hold back a triumphant smirk. I felt like I had been plunged into ice water. My chest heaved, a fire of helpless rage burning within me. They left without another word. Stella lingered, her eyes scanning the tiny, squalid apartment. “I was a little worried for a second there. I almost thought you’d win this time. Good thing Mom and Dad don’t believe you, as usual.” “I don’t see how you’re going to pass this final test. Why don’t you get on your knees and beg me? I could help you out.” “It’s just two thousand dollars. I can introduce you to a few benefactors. You take good care of them, and you could make not just two thousand, but two hundred thousand.” “Besides,” she added with a vicious smile, “Mom and Dad already think you’re shameless. What difference does it make now?” The feed erupted, cursing Stella, urging me to explain everything to my parents. But what was the point? They were always like this. They would act like they cared, calling me incessantly to make sure I paid my tuition, threatening to disown me if I didn’t get an education. But when I asked to borrow the money, they would say: “School is your own responsibility, Scarlett. You and your sister need to figure it out yourselves. There are plenty of opportunities in this world. If you’re willing to work hard, you can easily earn the money instead of just expecting handouts.” They said this when I was still a minor, when it was illegal for me to work. I had to travel to a remote town, lie about my age, and sell my blood to pay for my education. If they really cared, they would have investigated the moment they heard Nina was dead. But they didn’t. No matter how many times I told them, they were convinced I was lying. After her final taunt, Stella left. I collapsed to the floor, powerless. Utterly lost. I needed two thousand dollars. Not to pass their test. But to bury Nina. And a body… a body couldn’t wait a week. After a long time, I finally made a decision. I walked towards the city’s bar district. What was a little more degradation? If it meant Nina could finally rest in peace, I would do anything. 4 But the seedy, chaotic world of a nightclub was no place for a novice like me. Night after night, I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to endure the grasping, malicious hands. I begged and pleaded, finally convincing two gold-toothed executives to buy a single bottle of champagne. I survived like that, day after day. On the fifth day, the bar owner took pity on me. He sighed, his face etched with weariness. “I hear you’re in a rush for two thousand dollars. How about this? I’ll advance you your wages and tips from the past few days. I’ll have two thousand for you in the morning. After you’ve taken care of your business, you can come back and work in the back office. Away from the customers.” “A young girl like you… it’s not good to go through this kind of hardship so early.” This small act of kindness shattered my composure. I burst into tears, dropping to my knees and bowing my head to the floor three times in gratitude. That night, I called the funeral home and arranged a time for Nina’s cremation. But the next morning, when I arrived at the bar, I was met by the owner’s troubled face. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. His expression was a mixture of guilt and pity. He let out a long sigh. “Scarlett, I’m so sorry.” “The two thousand dollars…” “I can’t give it to you.” The feed, which had been celebrating with me just moments before, went silent. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I started to tremble, tears blurring my vision. Then I saw the feed light up again. 【Scarlett, it looks like your parents pressured the owner. If he gives you the money, he’ll lose his bar…】 【This guy has it tough. His mother has a heart condition, his son is autistic… the bar is all his family has. He had no choice but to say no.】 【But what is Scarlett going to do now? The funeral home is already preparing for the cremation.】 I looked at the owner’s bloodshot eyes. Numbly, I bowed to him. “Thank you. I’m sorry to have caused you trouble.” I wiped my tears with a stiff, mechanical motion and turned away, wandering aimlessly through the streets. I was completely and utterly hopeless. Why was it always like this? Every time a sliver of hope appeared, they would crush it, forcing my sister and me deeper into despair. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably in the middle of the sidewalk, my grief cut short by the ringing of my phone. It was Nurse Thompson from the hospital. “Hello? Young lady, you are coming to pick up your sister today, right?” “Every extra day is another fifty dollars…” “Nurse Thompson, I…” I didn’t know how to explain. The words caught in my throat. Before I could speak, a sharp blow struck the back of my head. Someone clamped a cloth over my mouth from behind. A sharp, suffocating smell filled my lungs. The world swam. The last things I saw were the frantic messages on the feed flashing 【RUN】 and the nurse on the other end of the line, her voice faint and distant as she called my name. But I couldn’t answer. A wave of cold washed over me. I forced my eyes open, squinting against a blinding light. “Heh, told you a splash of water would work.” I flinched, trying to move, only to realize I was bound. The man who had spoken walked over, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look at him. “Tsk, tsk. Not bad looking. This should be a profitable job.” “Don’t be scared, little girl. We’re going to take good care of you.” He smiled, his hand stroking my cheek, then moving slowly, deliberately, downward. With a jolt of horror, I realized I was completely naked. Panic seized me. “What do you want? Who hired you to kidnap me?” The man chuckled, twirling a lock of my hair around his finger. “You pissed off the wrong person. Don’t you even know who?” “A little girl like you… why would you pick a fight with the great Miss Sterling?” Miss Sterling… The name clicked, and just then, Stella emerged from the shadows. Her face was a mask of disgust. She circled me, filming me with her phone. “This is the price you pay for trying to compete with me for Mom and Dad’s love, Scarlett.” “You needed two thousand dollars for Nina’s funeral, right?” She laughed, pulling a bank card from her purse and tossing it at my feet. “Consider this a gift from me. And I was thoughtful enough to find you a few men to help you experience the joys of life.” “You’re welcome. I know you’ll thank me for it.” “Oh, and one more thing.” She smiled, pulling a piece of paper and an ink pad from her bag. She grabbed my hand and pressed my thumb onto the paper.

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With the doctor’s pitying gaze on me, I swallowed the pill. My death was now scheduled for three days’ time. Terminal cancer. My one and only chance at life-saving chemotherapy had been bought out from under me by my husband, Marcus. He’d given it to my adopted sister, Claudia, who only had an early-stage diagnosis. So I abandoned the doctor’s desperate treatment plan and took the powerful analgesic instead. It would block all pain, granting me three days of blissful ignorance. The price was total organ failure. In these last three days, I gave up everything. When I signed over the company I had built from scratch, my parents smiled, relieved. When Marcus produced the divorce papers and I signed without a fight, he sighed and called me “understanding.” When I pushed my daughter, Mia, toward Claudia and told her to call Claudia “Mom,” she clapped her hands and said her new mommy was the best. Even when I handed over my properties and personal wealth to Claudia, they saw nothing wrong. They just looked at me with that same, placid satisfaction. “Our thoughtful Stella is finally back.” I am, however, morbidly curious. When I’m gone, will they even remember me? 1 After taking the pill, I walked to Claudia’s hospital room. Inside, my father was peeling an orange for her while my mother chatted happily by her bedside. The moment I entered, the warmth on their faces vanished, replaced by a familiar, icy disapproval. “What, you’re done with your little act? Here to cause more trouble for Claudia?” my father’s voice was cold steel. “Let me tell you, Stella, as long as we’re here, you won’t lay a hand on her.” “We raised you better than this,” my mother chimed in, pointing an accusing finger at me. “I don’t know where you learned to be so vile. So jealous of your sister that you’d try to steal her chemotherapy slot.” She shook her head in disgust. “I should never have given birth to you.” From a corner of the room my parents couldn’t see, Claudia shot me a triumphant, mocking smile. I lowered my gaze. I had heard these words a thousand times. In the past, I would have fought back, screamed, tried to expose Claudia’s lies, even though my parents never believed a word I said. But I was tired. So incredibly tired. I had no fight left in me. “Well, you’re just in time. There’s something I need to discuss with you,” my father said, his tone all business. I managed a small smile. “Dad, I have something to tell you, too.” “Claudia wants my businesses and my company, right? I’ve thought it over. They’re all hers.” My father froze. My mother stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. “How did you know I was going to talk to you about that today? You agree?” I forced a faint smile. I couldn’t blame them for their shock. Claudia had been coveting my assets for years, and my parents had used every trick in the book—threats, guilt, praise—to get me to hand them over. I’d always refused. But what did any of it matter now? These things were meaningless to a dead woman. Seeing the sincerity in my expression, my mother’s face finally broke into a genuinely relieved smile. She stepped forward and stroked my hair. “You’ve finally seen the light!” “Claudia was always brighter than you in school. Even now, while she’s sick, she has a much better head for business.” “We’ll feel so much better knowing your company and shops are in her capable hands.” I pulled the transfer agreements from my bag and handed them to Claudia. After she signed, my parents took my hands, calling me a good girl, their good daughter. A bitter irony curled in my stomach. It was only when I yielded to Claudia that my mother ever smiled at me like this. A morbid curiosity sparked within me again. When they finally discover Claudia’s true colors, after I’m dead and gone, will they feel a single shred of regret? That evening, I returned home to find my husband, Marcus, and our daughter, Mia, cooking in the kitchen. The cancer had weakened me, and the sound of the front door closing was faint. They didn’t hear it, too engrossed in their cheerful preparations. When Marcus turned with a finished dish and saw me, his smile faltered for a second before snapping back into place. “Stella, when did you get back? You were so quiet.” My eyes fell to the plate in his hands. A light vegetable stir-fry with tofu. Claudia’s favorite. From the look of it, he’d achieved professional-chef quality. How ironic. I was on my deathbed, and only now did I learn that the man I’d lived with for five years could cook. He had always criticized my cooking, and under his influence, Mia had grown to disdain it too. I’d poured my heart and soul into this family, only to be met with constant disrespect. In the past, a scene like this would have sent me into a hysterical rage. Now, I just felt empty. I walked past them, sat on the sofa, and began tidying my purse. Marcus watched me, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He set the dish down and walked over. “Stella, there’s… something I need to talk to you about.” He rubbed his nose, a nervous habit. “It’s about your sister, Claudia.” My heart sank. A terrible premonition washed over me. His next words confirmed it, leaving me stunned and breathless. “After her chemo, Claudia’s been really down. Your parents thought… they thought it might lift her spirits if you and I got a divorce, so that she and I could get married. Just symbolically, of course. To bring her some good luck.” 2 A roaring filled my ears. It took a long moment for me to find my voice. “And you agreed?” Marcus sighed, a heavy, put-upon sound. “Stella, I know Claudia isn’t your biological sister, but since Mom and Dad adopted her, she’s family.” “And it’s just for show. To help her heal. As soon as she’s out of the hospital, I’ll still be your husband. Mia’s father.” Before I could respond, Mia piped up from the kitchen. “Yeah, Mom! Auntie Claudia has been so sad lately. You need to be more understanding!” I stared at the two of them. The man I had loved for years. The child I had painstakingly raised. I had done nothing wrong. I had been a devoted wife, a loving mother, a dutiful daughter. And for my efforts, I received only betrayal. But it didn’t matter anymore. If Claudia wanted them, she could have them. She could have it all. I looked up at Marcus. “Fine. I agree.” A flash of surprise crossed his face. “Really?” He immediately rushed to a drawer and pulled out a set of divorce papers, placing them on the coffee table. A humorless smile touched my lips. Marcus, oh Marcus. You can’t even pretend to hide your eagerness, can you? I picked up the pen and signed my name. When I was done, Marcus’s face was a mask of solemn, heartfelt relief. “Stella, as soon as Claudia recovers, we’ll remarry. I promise. I will never betray you.” He signed his own name, then looked at me and sighed again. “Stella, you’re so much more mature about this than you used to be. I know I haven’t always been fair. That was my fault.” “Once Claudia is well, I promise I’ll never make you worry about anything again.” “Yeah, Mom!” Mia added, puffing out her chest like a little adult. “You’re being so good to Auntie Claudia. I’m so proud of you!” Looking at them, the last embers of hope in my heart turned to ash. Until this moment, I had held onto a tiny, secret sliver of hope for Marcus and Mia. Now… there was nothing left to hope for but death. I stood to go to my room, but a wave of vertigo slammed into me. The world tilted, and I collapsed. In the last second before the darkness took me, I saw the panic on Marcus’s face. I was awoken by a biting cold. When I opened my eyes, I was still on the floor. Marcus and Mia were standing over me, their faces etched with disappointment. “See, Dad? I told you she was faking it,” Mia said, her voice full of scorn. “Mom, can you stop being so childish? You’re going to make us late for our hospital visit with Auntie Claudia!” Faking it? Then Marcus spoke, his voice heavy with disapproval. “Stella, can you please stop the drama?” “I already told you, even though we’re divorced, you’re the one I love. You don’t need to test me with these kinds of childish games.” His words clicked into place. I finally understood. The analgesic I’d taken was designed to block all symptoms of my illness for three days. To the outside world, I would appear perfectly healthy, my complexion normal. The side effect was, of course, catastrophic organ failure. The drug was working a little too well. I pushed myself up. “It was just low blood sugar. I’m fine. I’ll come to the hospital with you.” “There are some more transfer documents that Claudia needs to sign.” Marcus nodded, unsurprised. My parents must have already told him. At the hospital, Claudia was watching TV. “Stella, you’re here!” Her face was still pale, but her spirits were clearly high. The smug triumph in her eyes was impossible to miss. “Stella, thank you for trusting me with your businesses. I promise, I won’t let you down!” “That’s right, dear,” my mother cooed. “With Claudia managing everything, you can just relax at home and collect your dividends. Isn’t that wonderful?” I pulled the remaining documents from my bag. “In that case, I might as well give her all my personal assets to manage too.” “That way, I won’t have to worry about a thing ever again.” The entire room fell silent. 3 “Stella, are you serious? You want to give Claudia all your property?” Marcus grabbed my arm, his eyes wide with shock. Now it was my turn to be confused. They had always sided with Claudia, given her whatever she wanted. If I ever refused, they would berate me for days. Now that I was giving her everything, they were questioning it? My father was the first to recover, his face glowing with pride. “The child has finally grown up! Our efforts weren’t wasted on you after all!” “Stella, you’re finally learning to accept your sister. This is a good thing!” “From now on, you two can live together in harmony. Even when we’re old, we can finally be at peace.” Peace? Dad, Mom, you’ve been blinded by Claudia’s facade for years. Do you really believe she’ll take care of anything I built? A fresh wave of dizziness washed over me. My nose tickled. I touched it and my fingers came away stained with blood. “Stella, a nosebleed? The weather hasn’t even been that dry,” my mother asked, her brow furrowed in mild concern. My hand froze. I couldn’t stop myself. I looked at them, a hollow space opening in my chest. “Mom, Dad… if, one day, I really died from an illness… would you regret any of this?” My mother’s expression didn’t even flicker. She just gave me a dismissive smile. “You look perfectly healthy. How could you die from an illness? Don’t say such unlucky things.” “Exactly,” my father added, his gaze shifting anxiously to Claudia. “Claudia’s the one we need to worry about. We need to make sure she recovers fully.” “I agree!” Mia piped up. “Mom is super healthy. Auntie Claudia is the one we’re all worried about!” The last, fragile thread of hope inside me snapped. There was nothing left to wait for. I looked down at Mia and smiled. “Mia, you’ve always wanted your Auntie Claudia to be your real mom, haven’t you?” “I’ll grant your wish. From now on, Claudia is your mother. Aren’t you going to call her that?” A look of pure ecstasy lit up Mia’s face. “Really?!” I nodded, my smile feeling brittle. “Once you call her Mom, you can have her cooking all the time. She can be with you whenever you want. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Are you happy?” Mia jumped up and down. “Yay! Mommy is the best in the world! Thank you, Mommy!” She pulled her hand from mine and threw her arms around Claudia. My parents and Marcus watched the scene, their faces beaming with approval. I turned and walked out of the room. I glanced back one last time. My parents were laughing with Claudia, playfully teasing Mia. Marcus was watching them, a gentle smile on his face. Not a single person noticed I was gone. I closed the door and left the hospital. One day left to live. I had nowhere to go. My entire life had been a frantic, hurried rush. I’d never once taken the time to just… be. I bought a ticket to Brighton and watched the sea under the moonlight. I wanted to climb the cliffs, but my body wouldn’t let me. Just as the world began to fade, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in almost five years. Then, everything went black. 4 I woke up in a hospital. My eyes darted to the clock. Six hours left. Beside me, my best friend, Jane, was sitting with red-rimmed eyes. Years ago, Jane had begged me not to marry Marcus, insisting he wasn’t worthy of me. I hadn’t listened. We’d had a massive fight, and she hadn’t even come to my wedding. I knew I shouldn’t have bothered her now. But besides her, in this entire world, I had no one else. “What the hell happened to you?” Her voice was choked with tears. “Weren’t you so proud after you married him? Weren’t you a perfect, happy family? How did it come to this? Why is the doctor saying your organs are failing?” I was on a ventilator, but I managed a small smile. We’d made a pact as kids. If one of us was at the end of our life, the other, no matter what, would handle the aftermath. I couldn’t speak. I could only weakly lift my hand and point to my purse. Jane pulled out a stack of documents. She read them for a moment, then gave me a slight, firm nod and put them in her own bag. Thank God. Our old telepathy hadn’t faded. We didn’t need words. Three hours left. I refused all further medical intervention. After another period of unconsciousness, I woke to Jane holding her phone up for me to see. It was a series of texts from Claudia. [Stella, I won. I got everything that was yours.] [Did you really think you could compete with me? If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being so useless. And for having parents who love me so much more.] [Just disappear quietly from the family now. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your parents for you. And your husband and daughter, too. ♡] Jane saw the messages and started sobbing, cursing Claudia through her tears. I let out a silent, self-mocking sigh. I had never regretted anything in my life, except for one thing: convincing my father to sponsor Claudia. I first saw her at a run-down orphanage. I was a young volunteer, trailing behind a teacher. It was snowing heavily, and all the other children were huddled inside for warmth. Only Claudia was out back, by the dumpsters, picking at leftover bones someone had thrown away. I couldn’t bear it. I went home and begged my father to help her. After that, Claudia and I became inseparable. The next year, she joined my class at school. With her natural charm and intelligence, she quickly won over the teachers and students. Whenever someone praised her, I felt a surge of pride. Then, slowly, things began to change. My friends started to drift away from me, pulling Claudia into their circle as their new best friend. The boys who’d had crushes on me grew cold, only to later make grand, public declarations of love for Claudia. Even my parents started insisting I bring Claudia home for dinner, for sleepovers, until eventually, they split my bedroom in two and gave her half of it. I was too naive, too oblivious back then. I never realized that Claudia’s greatest talent was using the praise of others to steal everything that belonged to me. By the time I finally understood, it was too late. My room was gone. My family was gone. My entire life had been taken over by her. I did ask her why once. Her answer sent a chill through my bones. “Stella, do you think I’m grateful for your sponsorship? How could I be?” “I can’t stand the way you flaunt everything in front of me. I will take everything from you.” “I just want to see the look of despair on your face when you have nothing left.” … I once thought I could drive her away. I thought I could make my parents and Marcus see her for who she was. But I was too naive. I underestimated her cunning, and I fatally overlooked the genuine affection my parents, Marcus, and Mia had for her. I lost. Utterly and completely. Nine minutes left. My consciousness was fading, my vision blurring. But I could still see the screen of the phone Jane was holding. A new message from my mother. [Stella, find someone to paint the walls in that house of yours pink in the next few days. Your sister loves pink!] [Also, your sister will be discharged in about two weeks. When she is, clear out some of your things. Claudia needs space for her stuff!] Even in my last moments, my mother was only thinking of Claudia. It seemed I truly meant nothing to her. So be it. Jane was screaming something in my ear, but I couldn’t hear her anymore. I fought for so long. I’m so tired. Finally, I can get some sleep… On November 24th, Stella Miller passed away in a Brighton hospital. She was 29 years old.

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As I walked out of prison, the officer clapped me on the shoulder. “Go on, kid. Go out there and live a good life.” Outside the gates, my parents were waiting with a bouquet of flowers and a box of my favorite pastries. I ran into their arms. My mother wiped away a tear, her eyes filled with pain. “Oh, my girl. You’ve suffered so much.” One week later, at my birthday party, I took an axe and chopped off my father’s head. Then I hacked off my mother’s limbs. Finally, I pressed a towel over the face of my little brother, the one I had doted on for nine years, and held him in my arms until he suffocated. When it was all done, I washed the blood from my hands. Then I called the officer who had released me. “Sorry to trouble you, but you’ll have to come and get me again.” 1 I put down the phone and sat quietly on the sofa, taking a deep breath of the metallic air. There was so much blood. It was still seeping from my parents’ bodies. My little brother, on the other hand, had gone peacefully. His face was still, expressionless. I dragged my father’s head over and set it in front of me. The agony on his face was plain to see. I looked at it, and a laugh escaped my lips. Compared to my father, my mother’s face was a mask of pure terror when she died. Thinking of it, I glanced down at my pants. They were stained with the marks of her struggle. As I was reveling in the brutal aftermath of my own creation, the door burst open. The young officers who entered gasped in horror. But the older one, Detective Miles, just stared at me, his face a storm of fury. “You… why would you do this?” The floor was a sea of blood; they had nowhere to step. The commotion brought our neighbors poking their heads out of their doors. I smiled at Detective Miles. “Sir, you’re finally here.” I held out my hands. “I’ve killed them. You can take me in now.” The moment the words left my mouth, two officers slammed me to the ground. My face pressed against the sticky, bloody floor. The smell was so thick it made me want to gag. Then, the cold, familiar touch of handcuffs on my wrists. Detective Miles’s eyes were filled with a deep, sorrowful disbelief. “Why?” he asked, his voice raw. “Why would you do this? They were your parents!” His voice cracked, and tears welled in his eyes. He looked at me with overwhelming disappointment. “I was wrong about you. I was so wrong.” “Someone like you… you don’t deserve any sympathy.” “Take her away!” I was hauled out the door as a team of forensics experts swarmed the apartment. “Abby, you killed them?” my next-door neighbor asked, her eyes wide with terror, as if I were some kind of wild animal. I smiled at her. “All three of them. Mom, Dad, and my little brother.” Her face went white. The other onlookers in the hallway heard me, and whispers erupted. “She’s a psycho! She killed her whole family!” “That girl is sick in the head.” “Yeah, I heard her mom say she was in prison. She just got out a few days ago.” “God, what a tragedy for that family.” Detective Miles, following behind me, waved his hand in frustration. “Everyone, back in your homes. You’ll be questioned later. What are you looking at? This isn’t a marketplace; it’s a crime scene!” I was back in a familiar place. In the interrogation room, Detective Miles no longer looked at me with any kindness. The last time I was here was six months ago. I remembered him clearly. He had put a hand on my shoulder and said, “You’re a brave kid. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t stay in there for long.” He had kept his word. I was out in just six months. He probably never imagined that the person he worked so hard to free would be brought back in by his own hand. “Abigail Wu,” he began, his voice hard. “Tell me. Why did you kill them?” He slammed his hand on the table, and for a second, I thought it would splinter. “They were your parents! Your own flesh and blood!” “And your brother… he was so young! How could you do it?” His voice choked up at the end. I just shook my head, showing no remorse. “Because they all deserved to die.” “My brother… he should never have been born.” My words enraged every officer in the room. Detective Miles swore under his breath. “What the hell are you talking about?” he roared. “Your parents were so good to you! How could you be so cruel?” “Do you even have a shred of humanity?” He leaned across the table, his face just inches from mine, his spittle hitting my cheek as he yelled. Another officer tried to intervene. “Miles, maybe you should take a break. Let someone else handle this.” He shoved the officer’s hand away, his eyes locked on mine. “No. I’m interrogating her myself.” He sat back down, and I could hear the tremor in his voice. “Tell me what happened today.” I smiled and began to speak slowly. “Today was my birthday. My parents were so happy. They cooked so much food. And my brother… he gave me a gift he made himself. I was so touched.” 2 In the week after my release, my family had been incredibly kind. My mom showered me with food and gifts. My dad promised to buy me a house as a “welcome home” present. Even my usually bratty little brother was sweet, hugging me and saying, “I missed you so much, sis.” They deferred to me on everything, even asking me how I wanted to celebrate my birthday. “Abby, do you want to go out with friends or celebrate at home with us?” I was so happy to feel valued again. “Of course, I want to be at home with you guys.” My dad declared a company-wide holiday. “I’m staying home to celebrate my daughter’s birthday!” Mom was in the kitchen, my brother was studying in his room. We were a happy family. “Mom, let me cook the fish today,” I offered. She beamed, her eyes crinkling. “My Abby is all grown up now!” I took the apron from her and started cooking. I used to love cooking before… before I went away. After my return, everyone had unspokenly avoided the topic, afraid of reopening old wounds. My mom took out her phone, documenting the moment. “Look at our Abby, such a good cook.” I playfully covered my face. “Mom, are you posting this on Facebook again?” She pulled my hand away, her voice full of pride. “Of course! I have to show off my amazing daughter.” In her eyes, no matter how badly I did in school, I was always her greatest source of pride. “You’re not worried people will laugh?” I teased. Before she could reply, my dad came home. “Who’s talking about my daughter?” he boomed, patting his belly. “My girl is brilliant! I’d like to see anyone dare say otherwise.” My brother ran out, shouting, “My sister is the best sister in the world!” At the dinner table, my dad pulled out a deed to a house. “Abby, I’m getting old. This house… it’s for your security.” He handed it to me. My mom then produced an exquisite jade bracelet and slipped it onto my wrist. I hugged them both, tears of gratitude streaming down my face. Not to be outdone, my brother presented his handmade gift. “Sis! Me too! I don’t have money, but I made this myself!” He shot a glare at my dad. “It’s all their fault for not giving me an allowance! Otherwise, I could have bought you something nice!” My dad put on a stern face. “Tough love for boys, spoils for girls! You study hard! One day, you’ll have to take care of your sister.” During dinner, I pointed to the Szechuan fish. “I made that.” The three of them eagerly dug in. “My daughter’s cooking is the best!” “I’m such a lucky man. My daughter is so wonderful.” After dinner, just as my mom was about to get me a napkin, she collapsed. My dad panicked, but a moment later, he too fell unconscious. My little brother was already slumped over the table, unresponsive. I called their names. When there was no answer, I went straight to the balcony and got the axe. 3 The sharp pain woke my father. He begged me to stop, but I felt no mercy. I brought the axe down again and again. My mother was jolted awake by her own agony. She tried to scream, but I muffled her mouth. At one point, our neighbor heard the noise and knocked on the door. I made up a quick excuse and sent them away. When it came to my brother, I didn’t hesitate. But I did feel a flicker of pity. I didn’t use the axe. I chose a gentler way for him to leave this world. When I was done, I was drenched in sweat. I ripped up the deed my father had given me and flushed it down the toilet. The jade bracelet from my mother had shattered when I was moving her body and hit it against a table. The handmade letter from my brother? I stuffed it in his mouth. Even the flowers my parents had brought me on my release day were spattered with blood. For a moment, all I could see was red. When I finished my story, I was shaking with laughter. Detective Miles was speechless. His lips trembled. “Why?” he finally managed. “Why would you do it? Abigail, why?” My smile vanished. I scoffed. “Because they all deserved to die.” Growing up, I was spoiled rotten, a princess in a candy-coated castle. I had more dresses than any other girl had pants. I had three closets in our house, and two walk-in closets in our villa we barely used. Still, my mother always thought I needed more clothes. They always told me, “Grades don’t matter. Your happiness is what’s important.” Because of that, I could be last in my class and never get scolded. My dad would even encourage me to play longer with my friends. “We have money. You can do whatever you want.” I tried countless hobbies and quit them all. I couldn’t handle hardship, and my parents couldn’t bear to see me suffer. My childhood was a blur of fun and games. Until my brother was born. Then, my mother changed. She wouldn’t let me near him, saying I would hurt him. I didn’t understand. “He’s my brother, my family. Why would I hurt him?” I would cry. She never explained. My dad would pull me aside and tell me, “Your mom is sick. Postpartum depression. She’ll get better.” He said she was just being overprotective. I believed him. To help her “get better,” I doted on my brother, spending all my allowance and savings on toys for him. And it worked. Seeing how much I loved him, my mother’s “illness” seemed to fade. But they were different with him. They were strict. If his grades were bad, he was punished. If he was too rowdy, he was punished. He would often complain that they were playing favorites. My dad would hit him again and say, “You want to be compared to your sister? She’s our sweet girl. You’re just a leather jacket, nothing but trouble.” My mom and I would often have to step in when it got too rough. Detective Miles listened to all this, then fell silent. “So, just because of that, you killed them?” I shook my head. “Of course not.” He seemed to understand something. “You hate them for sending you to prison?”

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Zoey always said she was a creature of deep, abiding love. But on the day her first love was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she handed me a pill designed to erase my memories. “Cary,” she pleaded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, “Leo is dying. Just give me three days. It’s his dying wish—a wedding.” “I won’t let it hurt you,” she promised, her voice a soft, persuasive whisper. “This pill causes temporary amnesia. After the wedding, you’ll take the antidote, you’ll love me again, and we can get remarried. It’ll be like nothing ever happened.” Staring at the resolute set of her jaw, I took the pill from her palm and swallowed it without a second thought. What Zoey didn’t know is that I was the one who developed this drug. And there is no cure. In three days, I will have forgotten her completely. 1 As we stepped out of City Hall, the divorce papers feeling flimsy and unreal in my hand, Zoey glanced at her watch. “The drug will kick in in two minutes,” she said, her tone meticulously practical. “For the next three days, you’ll forget you ever loved me. And once you take the antidote, you won’t remember any of this, so there’s no chance of you getting hurt.” She reached out, her fingers cool against my cheek. “Our divorce is just a formality, a temporary measure. When this is over, we’ll be together again. You’re the only man I’ll ever truly call my husband, Cary. You know that.” I watched her in silence, the bitter truth a stone in my throat. There would be no reunion. As the drug’s lead researcher, I knew its true nature all too well. It didn’t wipe your memory clean in an instant. It was a slow erosion, a creeping tide that washed away the memories of your most beloved, piece by agonizing piece. And the antidote she spoke of? It didn’t exist. Not yet. But she was blissfully unaware. “Are you sure you won’t regret this?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. A fond smile touched her lips as she ruffled my hair. “Leo has loved me for so many years. His only wish is to have a wedding with me. How can I say no? And no, I won’t regret doing what’s right.” She framed my face with her hands. “Cary, you’ve always been the kindest, most understanding man I know. There’s no need to be jealous of a dying man. Once this is all over, we’ll go right back to our happy life.” A humorless smile twisted my lips. I let the acidic wave of sorrow wash over me, saying nothing more. I remembered the year we were most in love. I’d landed a major account for her, drinking myself sick until I was vomiting blood. She’d stayed up all night fighting to get my stolen research back, pushing herself until she developed a heart arrhythmia. Later, I’d teased her. “What if I get old and my memory goes? What if I forget you?” Her eyes had instantly reddened. She’d crushed her lips to mine in a fierce, desperate kiss. “Cary, I love you,” she’d choked out. “Promise me you’ll never forget me. I think I’d go mad.” And now, hearing that her old flame had cancer, she was the one orchestrating my forgetting. Divorcing me, feeding me a pill to erase every trace of our life together. She wanted to give him three days of her love, I guessed. A perfect, untarnished love, free from the inconvenient existence of a husband. An exclusive, complete devotion. But if she was brave enough to betray me so openly, why bother with the charade of a future reunion? I let out a dry, self-mocking laugh. Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through my skull. My body swayed, and I pitched forward. Zoey’s reflexes were sharp; she caught me, her beautiful eyes filled with a sudden, deep concern. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? If you’re scared… if you’re worried I won’t come back, I can give you the divorce certificate, all the papers. You can hold onto them.” I pushed myself upright, blinking at her with what I hoped was a look of genuine confusion. “What divorce certificate?” Zoey froze, then her expression shifted. “Cary,” she said, her voice cautious, “we just got divorced. Do you remember?” “Divorced?” Seeing the blank look on my face, a flicker of something—relief? joy?—danced in her eyes before she could hide it. My gaze fell to the papers still clutched in my hand. I understood. The drug was starting to work. The first memory to go was the most recent, most painful one: our divorce. Zoey quickly snatched the certificate from my grasp, as if afraid I’d see her name next to mine. She softened her voice, weaving a new reality. “Cary, I’m your sister. You’ve been ill, you’ve lost some of your memories. I’ll keep these important documents safe for you.” I looked up, meeting her darting, evasive eyes, and said nothing to challenge the lie. Fine. If she wanted to play a part, I would play along. Just then, a low voice called out. “Zoey! There you are.” I turned to see Leo jogging toward us. He stumbled on an uneven paving stone, lurching forward. In a heartbeat, Zoey dropped my arm and lunged to steady him. The sudden release sent me stumbling backward into the hard brick wall of the building. My head, already throbbing with a needle-like pain, exploded in a fresh wave of agony. Leo clung to Zoey’s hand, his arm snaking around her waist as he flashed a triumphant smile. “Thanks for catching me, Zoey.” Realization dawned on her face. She blanched, pushing him away as her gaze snapped back to me. “Cary! Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, Leo’s sick… if he falls and starts bleeding, it might not stop. I had to catch him first.” I had already straightened up, brushing the dust from my jacket and swallowing the pain. “I’m fine.” Leo stepped closer again, his hand finding Zoey’s arm, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Zoey, what took you so long? It’s just a divorce. I was waiting forever.” Noticing my stare, Zoey cleared her throat, her guilt palpable. But she didn’t pull her arm away. “It’s done,” she said to him. “We can focus on the wedding now.” Leo’s face lit up. He shot me a smug, victorious glance. “Cary, your sister and I have been in love for five years. We’re finally getting married. The wedding is in three days. You have to be there.” I forced a smile. “It’s my sister’s wedding. Of course, I’ll be there.” His grin widened. “Great. You can be our photographer. Make sure you get a perfect shot of me and Zoey kissing at the altar…” “Leo,” Zoey cut in, her voice sharp with warning. She looked at me, a strange flicker of disappointment in her eyes when she found no trace of pain in mine. “He doesn’t need to come to our wedding.” My expression remained placid. Seeing Zoey defend me, Leo’s brow furrowed. He suddenly sagged against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Zoey,” he whimpered, “my heart… it hurts. I can’t breathe.” Instantly, all her attention was on him, her eyes wide with alarm. “Is it happening again? Just hold on, I’ll get you to the hospital.” She glanced back at me, her voice low. “Cary, do you remember the way home? Should I have someone drive you?” I shook my head. “I remember.” She hesitated. The staff at the clinic had told her the drug only erased memories of a loved one, leaving everything else intact. The thought that I was her greatest love, the one being erased, seemed to momentarily soothe her. “Okay. You go on home, then. I’m taking Leo to the hospital.” With that, she guided a leaning, weakened Leo to her car. He kept his arm draped around her shoulders, his voice faint but clear. “Zoey, to be held by you like this, out in the open… even if I died right now, it would all be worth it.” “Don’t say such foolish things,” she chided gently. Through the car window, I watched as she leaned over to fasten his seatbelt. He suddenly wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her close and pressing a soft kiss to her earlobe. The intimate, tender gesture sent a blade of ice through my heart. The sting of betrayal, sharp and undeniable. Her car sped away, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust. A moment later, my phone rang. “Mr. Reed,” a voice with a French accent said, “The Moreau Institute in Paris has prepared your orientation. We look forward to welcoming you in three days.” 2 I hung up and went home, only to find the apartment stripped bare, a hollowed-out shell of what it once was. Zoey and I had designed this place together. This was supposed to be our forever home, our cozy little sanctuary. Now, the tea set we’d designed, the art we’d chosen, every single object that held a memory of her was gone. She must have been terrified of me remembering our past. She’d even dug up the flowerbeds on the balcony, turning over the soil where we’d planted roses together, erasing even the roots of our shared past. Staring at the crushing emptiness, a bitter smile touched my lips. Zoey, in all your careful planning, were you more afraid of my pain, or were you afraid I’d remember everything and crash your perfect wedding? If you knew there was no cure, that my memories of you would be gone forever, would you feel a single shred of regret? I slipped my wedding ring off my finger. I wrote her a letter, sealed it in an envelope with the ring, and tucked it deep into the loose soil of one of the empty planters. Just then, my phone rang again. It was my best friend, Ryan. He hesitated before speaking. “Cary… man, I have to tell you something. I think Zoey’s cheating on you. I just saw her outside the hospital, all over some other guy.” “I know,” I said, my voice flat. “It doesn’t matter. Let her be.” Ryan was stunned by my calm. “Cary? Are you… are you okay?” His genuine panic almost made me laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be? Zoey and I are divorced.” “DIVORCED?!” I gave him the short, brutal version of the story. When I told him I’d taken the pill, a string of curses erupted from the other end of the line. “That son of a bitch! And her—what a piece of work! To marry that guy, she’d really stoop to anything. You gave up that research position in Paris to be with her! Half of her success, she owes to you! And now she does this, for him? And she has the gall to say she’s doing it so you won’t feel pain? Who the hell does she think she is?” Finally, a sliver of pain broke through my numbness, and my face grew pale. Five years ago, when Zoey was at her lowest, I married her without a second thought. I used every connection I had to pull her company back from the brink of bankruptcy. Back then, she would hold me tight every night, whispering in my ear that I was her forever. But somewhere along the way, things had changed. Her heart had found room for someone else. She forgot my sacrifices and started demanding that I be tolerant, that I forgive her “compassion” for Leo. Is it so hard to love one person, and one person only? Because I managed it just fine. Ryan, having exhausted his vocabulary of insults, took a deep breath. “I’m telling you, she is going to regret this for the rest of her life. Divorcing you, drugging you… she’ll be kicking herself forever.” He scoffed. “She has no idea you never finished the antidote, does she? Good. Let her suffer. And you… you’re finally free.” My eyes drifted to the planter where I’d hidden the letter. I knew Zoey’s habits better than my own. When she was upset, she’d drink a glass of wine on the balcony. If, when I was gone, she truly felt regret, she would find it. Late that night, I heard her come in. She was rummaging through the closet in my room. “What are you doing?” Her movements froze. She turned to see me standing in the doorway in my pajamas. She frowned, pulling a scarf from her own neck and wrapping it around mine. “It’s freezing in here. Why are you dressed so lightly?” I ignored her question. “Are you looking for something?” “Yeah,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “I need to borrow your suit. For Leo. He wants to wear it at the wedding.” She paused, then added, “You might not remember. It’s the one you wore for our wedding.” I stared at her, my silence a heavy weight in the room. Of course I hadn’t forgotten. She had designed it for me herself. Two whole months, from the first sketch to the final stitch. A couture piece that was practically priceless. All because I had once casually mentioned, “I wish I had a suit that was one-of-a-kind.” And now, she was taking that suit, made for me, to dress another man for his wedding. The absurdity of it was almost comical. I decided to press her. “Is this suit really that important? Why does it have to be this one?” My question seemed to stir a memory. Her hands stilled for a fraction of a second. The day she’d finished it, she had told me, “This suit, Cary, will only ever belong to you.” I watched her, waiting. She hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “It was designed by a master artisan. It’s the only one in the world. Leo loves it, and it’s his dream to get married in it.” Seeing my gaze drop, she added quickly, “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it right back after the wedding. And then… whatever you want, just ask. I’ll get it for you.” The same smooth, practiced lies. Another blow landed squarely on my heart. On our wedding day, her eyes had never left me. Afterward, she had carefully stored the suit away as if it were a sacred relic. “Why are you so careful with it?” I had laughed. She had looked at me with sincere, earnest eyes. “Because you gave this suit its meaning. I want to preserve that memory forever.” But now, because Leo “liked it,” she was handing it over without a second thought. The suit, once a treasured symbol, was now just a tool to appease another man. “It’s late. You should get some sleep. I have to go out again,” Zoey said, oblivious to the storm inside me. She took the suit and left. I pulled the scarf from my neck and let it fall to the floor. I looked at the empty space in the closet, a hollow ache of disappointment and sorrow filling my chest. It’s okay, I told myself, talking to the suit as much as to myself. Just like me, once she’s done cleaning house, everything will be fine. It was just another form of being thrown away. Once my memory was wiped clean, I could finally let go. As the thought crossed my mind, another vicious spike of pain shot through my head. And just like that, another huge piece of my memory vanished, pulling me violently from the depths of my grief. 3 The next day, Ryan called to tell me Zoey was throwing herself into wedding preparations for Leo. The scale of it, he said, was on par with the wedding she’d had with me. I nodded thoughtfully. For someone so busy, she still managed to have three meals a day delivered to my door. Spreading the love so evenly… it must have been exhausting for her. On the day of the wedding, Ryan took me to the venue. We sat in a corner, far from the main crowd. The ceremony hadn’t started yet. I could see Zoey and Leo, arms linked, surrounded by a laughing group of groomsmen. “I remember when Zoey and Cary had a wedding this big,” one of them said loudly. “Damn, I never thought our boy Leo would be so lucky, marrying such a knockout.” At the mention of my name, Leo’s hand tightened on Zoey’s. Zoey spoke up, her voice clear and firm. “Cary and I are divorced. Today is about Leo. Let’s not bring up the past.” Hearing her so decisively cut ties, another groomsman whistled. “Leo’s young, handsome, and brilliant. Cary Reed never stood a chance.” “Zoey, you better take good care of our boy for the rest of his life. Don’t you dare break his heart.” Zoey smiled sweetly, the same smile she’d given me when she made her vows. “Don’t worry,” she promised. “I won’t let him down. And he won’t let me down.” My gaze darkened. Beside me, Ryan was gritting his teeth. “What a twisted sense of morality. Since when is the other man celebrated for winning?” In the distance, someone started a chant. “It’s a beautiful day! How about a kiss for the happy couple!” The groomsmen joined in, a chorus of rowdy shouts. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Leo stared at Zoey, his expression a perfect mask of adoration. Under the mounting pressure, Zoey raised a hand to his jaw, then stood on her toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss near the corner of his lips. The crowd erupted in cheers. In the midst of the roaring celebration, all I felt was a profound, echoing silence. She couldn’t guard her heart. Now, she couldn’t even guard her body. A mocking smile played on my lips. Thank God for the memory loss. The pain was already so much duller. Just then, my phone screen lit up. A boarding notification for my flight. “Ryan,” I said, standing up. “It’s time for me to go.” He pulled me into a fierce hug, his eyes red. “Go. Leave all this garbage behind and go be brilliant. I’ll be waiting to see you celebrated around the world.” He grinned mischievously. “As for this party… don’t worry. I’ve got a wedding gift for them.” “See you, man.” I clapped him on the shoulder, not bothering to ask what he had planned. In half an hour, the last of my memories of loving Zoey would be gone anyway. I walked away, pulling my suitcase behind me. As Zoey and Leo stood hand-in-hand, her eyes scanned the room and for a second, I thought she saw me. A flash of panic crossed her face. But she must have dismissed it. If I were here, I’d be attending as her “brother.” I wouldn’t be slipping out the back with a suitcase. She must have imagined it. The lights in the hall dimmed. Zoey and Leo stood center stage, exchanging rings under the spotlight, gazing at each other with saccharine sweetness. The crowd began to chant for another kiss. Suddenly, a massive banner unfurled from the ceiling above them. Ryan stood beneath it, holding a megaphone, a smirk on his face. “A toast!” he boomed, his voice echoing through the silent hall. “To the happy couple—the homewrecker Leo and the lying cheat Zoey! May your lives together be long and utterly miserable!” Leo’s face went white as he stared helplessly at Zoey. Recognizing Ryan, Zoey’s face hardened with fury. “What the hell are you talking about? Cary and I are divorced! Leo is not a homewrecker!” Ryan let out a cold, harsh laugh. “You want to have your cake and eat it too, don’t you? You can’t let go of your ex-husband, but you still have to give this guy his fantasy wedding. You told Cary to wait for you, to remarry you! Do you have any idea how much pain you’ve put him through these last three days?” Zoey’s eyes turned to ice. “You don’t need to worry about that. I gave Cary the memory drug. He won’t remember a thing.” “You idiot,” Ryan spat. “The drug doesn’t work instantly. It takes three full days for the memories of a loved one to disappear completely. Every single thing you’ve done, every lie you’ve told, every moment with him—Cary saw it all.” Ryan tilted his chin up, his eyes filled with contempt. “And here’s something else you don’t know. Who do you think was the lead researcher on that drug? It was Cary. Your ex-husband.”

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For six years, I secretly loved Robert Reid. The night I confessed, someone drugged my drink. I thought I’d spent that passionate night with him. Two months pregnant, Robert agreed to “do the right thing”—until our wedding day, when he flashed a marriage certificate with his childhood sweetheart Isabelle. His twin Ian pulled me aside. “It was me that night,” he admitted, proposing immediately. After four failed pregnancies, doctors said I’d never carry to term. Ian lit candles in every church, begging God for our miracle. Now pregnant again, I overheard them plotting: “Trick her into a hysterectomy,” Robert suggested. “She’ll never bear a healthy heir,” Ian agreed. “The fortune belongs to Isabelle’s child.” Then— “Let’s fetch her firstborn from the orphanage. Isabelle needs entertainment.” “Fine. Just don’t kill him… though his life’s worthless anyway.” I finally understood: We were just toys for Isabelle’s amusement. 1 Ian tossed a photograph of a three-year-old boy onto the table, his eyes flashing with disgust. “This is the one. I couldn’t be bothered to name him. The director at the orphanage calls him Ben. I saw him last year—all skin and bones, completely malnourished.” Ian sneered. “To be honest, though, he has your eyes.” Robert, lounging in his chair, picked up the photo with a look of pure contempt. “He’s just a bastard, the result of a one-night mistake. I’ll never acknowledge him.” He then carefully unlocked his phone, his expression softening as he gazed at the screen saver—a radiant Isabelle in a maternity dress. “My children will only come from Isabelle.” His voice hardened again. “If that scheming bitch Leah hadn’t deliberately drunk Isabelle’s wine that night four years ago, she never would have had the chance to crawl into my bed.” A tremor ran through me, a chill so deep it felt like my heart had turned to ice. That’s not what happened. Four years ago, I had planned to confess my feelings to Robert. I was so nervous at the gala that I had a few too many drinks. My eyes followed him all night, but I never noticed someone swapping my glass. Later, I learned the drugged drink had been meant for Isabelle. But she was too busy flirting with some rich heir, and by a cruel twist of fate, I was the one who drank it. Dizzy and disoriented, I was helped to a room upstairs. A moment later, Robert burst in, his body radiating heat, and pulled me into a rough embrace. He thought I was Isabelle. One passionate, mistaken night. When I woke up the next morning, the warmth was gone. Robert’s face was a mask of cold fury when he saw it was me. He spat out that he would “take responsibility,” but at our wedding, he announced he’d already married Isabelle. It was Ian who stopped me from making a scene. Ian who told me the truth—or what I thought was the truth. That it was him. That the child was his. After we married, I was eight months pregnant when a glass of orange juice sent me into premature labor. I woke up in the hospital to Ian, his eyes red and swollen, telling me our baby had died just moments after birth. The grief was a physical blow; I nearly fainted from the pain. Ian stayed with me all night, holding me, his kisses a tender, heartbreaking comfort on my forehead. “It’s okay, Leah,” he whispered. “It’s okay.” “We’ll have another. And another. We’re still young…” He never left my side, gently guiding me out of the darkness of my grief. In the three years that followed, I had three more miscarriages. The doctors all said the same thing: my body was simply too fragile. Ian even hired a top-tier private physician from overseas to help me, to create special supplements and treatments. I never imagined they were all in on it together. “Leah, are you home?” Ian’s familiar footsteps echoed up the stairs, growing closer. The door swung open. His gaze, as always, was tender as it landed on me. “The driver said you just got back from the clinic?” he asked, his voice soft with concern. “What did the doctor say…” His eyes fell on the table, where the positive pregnancy report I’d forgotten to hide lay in plain sight. Before I could move, he had snatched it up. His brow furrowed as he read the results. I forced myself to breathe, to push down the wave of sorrow and rage. “I’m pregnant,” I said, my voice steady. “Aren’t you happy?” A smile stretched across Ian’s face, a brilliant, practiced performance of joy. “Not happy? Leah, this is wonderful! All our efforts… they finally paid off. We’re finally going to have our baby.” He pulled me into a hug, but his body was stiff, his embrace a cage of lies. I could feel the cold distance between us. “I have to call Dr. Evans right away,” he said, already pulling back. “We need to make sure he takes the best care of you.” He turned and walked quickly toward his study, phone in hand. I heard his voice, muffled but sharp, through the half-closed door. “Dr. Evans, what the hell are you doing? I told you to up the dosage on her ‘supplements.’ I told you to make sure she could never get pregnant again. How did this happen?” A pause. “Fix it. Get something to induce a miscarriage. And just like before, make it look like part of her prenatal care. Be discreet.” I leaned against the wall, a laugh tearing from my throat, sharp and brittle as glass. My tears were silent. This was my husband. The man I had loved and trusted for three years. The man I shared my bed with. Ian returned a few minutes later, his performance flawless. He guided me to the sofa, then knelt before me, placing a gentle hand on my stomach as if to listen. “I need to say hello to our little one,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Tell them to be good in there, not to give their mommy any trouble.” His tenderness was so convincing it was terrifying. He was a true master of his craft. Later, after spending half the afternoon in his study meticulously drafting a “prenatal plan,” he looked up at me. “Leah, since you’re pregnant, you should take a year off from the university. Just stay home and rest.” I was a professor with only two classes a day; my schedule was hardly strenuous. I knew his suggestion wasn’t about my health. It was about keeping me under his control. Before, I would have melted, thrilled to have such a caring husband. Now, I just shook my head, my face a blank mask. “No, thank you. There’s no guarantee I’ll be able to keep this one, either.” Seeing my resolve, Ian didn’t push. He simply said he’d have Dr. Evans make a house call the next day. That night, claiming I had to prepare for my classes, I locked myself in the study. While Ian was out, I began a frantic search. The photo of the boy… it had to be here. He’d hidden it in a bookshelf. Finally, tucked inside a thick volume on the bottom shelf, I found it. My eyes instantly blurred with tears. The little boy in the picture had my nose, my mouth. It was like looking at a childhood photo of myself. But his eyes… his eyes were Robert’s. From their conversation, I knew he was in an orphanage, but they hadn’t said which one. The next day, I announced I was hosting a family dinner at our villa. An impromptu celebration, I called it, mainly to get Robert and Isabelle to come. Ian was surprised. “Why the sudden party? I thought Dr. Evans was coming to check on you.” I managed a small smile. “Isabelle is pregnant, too. It’s a double blessing for the family. We should celebrate together.” In reality, I just needed to find out the name of that orphanage. “Alright,” Ian agreed, his voice instantly lighter at the prospect of seeing Isabelle. “Whatever you want.” The next morning, he spent an eternity in front of the mirror, trying on his most expensive custom-tailored suit, fussing with his hair. It reminded me of something I’d discovered shortly after we were married—a secret room in the basement. It was filled with photo albums, stacks of them, and journals detailing a long, obsessive crush on another girl. When I’d stumbled upon it and asked him who she was, he’d become flustered, mumbling that she was just his first love. I respected his past and never brought it up again. I never dreamed that girl was Isabelle. When I stepped out onto the lawn for the party, Robert and Isabelle were already there. She was six months pregnant, reclining in a lawn chair and screaming at a small, three-year-old boy. “You worthless little gutter rat! Are you blind?” she shrieked. “Do you have any idea how much this dress costs? I could sell you for parts and it wouldn’t be enough! I ought to chop off your hand!” I saw the boy’s face, and my breath caught. It was the face from the photograph. It was Ben. He had been bringing her a cup of coffee and had accidentally spilled some on her skirt. Now he was on the ground, rolling and flinching as she lashed out, begging for mercy. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” “Please, please forgive me…” My eyes fixed on the marks covering his small body. Angry red welts from a whip, and thin, silver lines that looked like they’d been made with a knife. Some were fresh, others were old scars. Robert, who knew this was his own son, watched with a cold, detached amusement. “Get on your knees and apologize to Aunt Isabelle,” he said, his voice laced with scorn. “If you make her happy, maybe she’ll let you get up. Don’t forget, the only reason you’re out of that hellhole orphanage is because she was feeling generous. If you’re smart, you’ll be a good little dog.” As he spoke, he casually popped a grape into Isabelle’s mouth. They looked like a perfectly loving couple. Ben, who was only three, had an unnerving maturity and resilience in his eyes. He did as he was told, getting to his knees without a word. “I’m sorry!” Isabelle preened, a smug look on her face. She stuck out her foot. “Since you’re such an obedient dog, why don’t you lick my shoe clean?” “Stop it!” My voice was a roar. I rushed forward, blocking Ben just as he was about to lower his head, and pulled him into my arms. “Isabelle, he’s a child! Have you lost your mind?” I was shaking with fury. To think this monster was the woman I once called a friend. Isabelle just laughed when she saw it was me. “Well, well, if it isn’t my dear sister-in-law. He’s just some nameless orphan, a stray we picked up. The way you’re protecting him, anyone would think he was your own son.” Her words were dripping with insinuation. Robert chimed in with a sneer. “And who the hell are you, Leah? Don’t think that just because you married my brother, you can tell us what to do. Ian may have taken our mother’s name, but I am the true heir. Only a child born from me and Isabelle will be a real Reid, the future head of the corporation. Who are you to interfere with what Isabelle wants to do?” He ordered me to let the boy go. In my arms, Ben looked up at me with a flash of gratitude, but then he deliberately stepped back, putting distance between us. “It’s okay, ma’am,” he whispered. “Thank you, but you don’t have to.” His small voice broke my heart. “I’m used to it.” That was it. My composure shattered. With a cry of rage, I swept my arm across the nearby table, sending food and drinks crashing to the ground. “Isabelle, you should try to do one decent thing in your life! If not for yourself, then for the child you’re carrying!” So much for the damn family dinner. I was done playing their games. I grabbed Ben’s hand and turned to leave. But before we could reach the gate, Ian blocked our path, his face a cold mask. “Leah, what do you think you’re doing?” I’d almost forgotten. He was Isabelle’s most loyal knight. In the next second, Isabelle was at his side, her face streaked with tears, clutching his arm. “Ian, I know you and Leah are close, but… we just adopted this boy. It has nothing to do with her. She flew into a rage and knocked over the table… she scared my baby!” She dabbed at her eyes, a perfect portrait of a fragile, wronged victim. It worked. Ian’s heart melted. His cold glare returned to me. “You’re the one who wanted this party, Leah. Isabelle did nothing wrong. She was just trying to discipline the boy. What right do you have to throw a tantrum? Now put him down and give him back to her.” I held Ben tighter, my voice dripping with ice. “I’ve taken a liking to him. I want to adopt him.” All three of them refused, their voices rising, pressuring me to release the child. But a cold calm had settled over me. I smiled, my gaze landing on Isabelle. “Isabelle, dear. There’s something I need to talk to you about. In private.” I led her up to the second-floor terrace. I deliberately started an argument, provoking her until she was red-faced with anger. Just as I’d planned, she shoved me, hard. Everyone below, and the security cameras, saw it happen. I tumbled over the railing. I landed on the soft grass of the lawn. The fall didn’t kill me, but a warm, sticky wetness began to spread beneath me. I was bleeding. Ian’s face went white. He scrambled toward me. “Leah! Are you okay?”

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I got into a heated argument with an enemy player in an online game. That very day, a popular starlet took to social media and sicced her fanbase on me. 【Who the hell do you think you are, flaming our precious Amanda?】 【Apologize right now if you don’t want to be doxxed.】 I glanced at the 99+ abusive messages flooding my inbox and sneered. I had my assistant ban her gaming and social media accounts on the spot. Who doesn’t have a secret identity these days? 1 I was in a ranked promotion match when an enemy support player, username “Amanda,” typed in the all-chat: 【Anyone want to flatter me a little?】 No one on my team responded. She typed again: 【OK, fine. Kai, wipe them out.】 And for the rest of the game, our team was slaughtered by the enemy assassin, Kai, ending with a score of 0-20. After the match, I instinctively checked Kai’s profile. His avatar was adorned with a national top-player badge. Outskilled. I sighed. At least I had a loss-protection card. I queued up for another game. Wouldn’t you know it, I was matched with Kai and Amanda again. Amanda seemed to recognize me. As soon as the match started, she specifically targeted me: 【You were the Seraphina from last game, weren’t you? How about it? Flatter me a little this time, and I’ll have Kai kill you a few less times.】 I responded with a string of ellipses. I just assumed she was some young girl. But my silence, she took as a challenge. For the entire match, with Amanda perched on his shoulder, Kai hunted me down relentlessly. No matter where I went, the moment I appeared on the map, my screen went black. She even went out of her way to taunt me over my dead body. 【Seraphina, just say something nice. We’ll let you go.】 【Still not begging for mercy?】 【Don’t push the towers yet. Let’s dive her a few more times.】 I held it in for as long as I could, but staring at my 0-16 score, I finally typed: 【Can you just end it? I have another game to get to.】 Amanda immediately shot back: 【Ooh, someone’s triggered.】 【Nope. I’m going to keep killing you. What are you going to do about it?】 【…】 2 Finally, my own teammates couldn’t stand it anymore and voted to surrender. I was incredibly frustrated and was about to quit the game when a party invitation popped up. Before I could even see who it was from, I instinctively accepted. The moment I entered the lobby, the game started. It was a 5v5 custom match. I randomly picked a mage, and as the loading screen appeared, I saw their names: “Amanda” and her nationally-ranked Kai. Me: 【…】 You have got to be kidding me. Sure enough, the moment the game began, they ganged up on me, slaughtering me in every corner of the map. Every time I died, Amanda would type out a taunt. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went AFK and started typing. 【What’s there to brag about when you’re just getting carried? You don’t actually think you have any skill, do you?】 【You even have to bring your little boyfriend into a custom lobby. Why don’t you 1v1 me if you have the guts?】 【We’re both girls, what’s with the cattiness? Flatter you? Are you even eighteen yet, little girl?】 After my rant, I voted to surrender and closed the game without a second thought. I thought that would be the end of it. But the next day, my roommate sent me a video. 【Ivy, is this your game account? I remember your name is something like this?】 A sense of dread washed over me. I frowned and opened the video. It was a screen recording of a livestream. A pretty, innocent-looking girl was sitting in front of her computer, holding her phone, a pitiful expression on her face. “I was just joking with her, why did she get so angry? Even if I went a little too far, she didn’t have to curse me out so horribly, did she?” As she spoke, she aimed the camera at her phone screen, which clearly showed my in-game ID. “She’s probably blocked me already. Could you all help me apologize to her? I didn’t mean it, it was all for the stream.” The video went viral almost instantly, racking up tens of millions of views. The comments section exploded: 【Is this lady a sore loser or what? It’s a meme, why is she so bent out of shape?】 【A woman who spews profanity like that can’t be a good person. Why should we apologize to her?】 【How dare she curse at our Amanda! She picked the wrong person to mess with!】 【Guys, her friends list is full now, I can’t add her in the game to flame her.】 【Don’t worry babes, I already found her social media accounts. Let’s go get her!】 3 I closed the video, my face impassive. My roommate messaged again: 【Ivy, you really cursed out Amanda Rose?】 I frowned. 【Who’s Amanda Rose? The streamer?】 Roommate: 【Oh my god, you don’t even know who Amanda Rose is? She’s the second female lead in that super popular historical drama right now! The show hit a new ratings high yesterday, so she promised her fans she’d stream, and she brought the second male lead along to play with her. They were just trying to create some content, and then this happened. I just never thought the girl who cussed her out would be you. You’ve got some serious nerve.】 I was silent for a moment. 【So everyone thinks it’s my fault? Didn’t they even try to find out what really happened?】 【What does it matter? Amanda has over ten million fans across all her platforms. Besides, her whole brand is being this pure, innocent flower. Who would believe she was deliberately provoking you?】 My roommate’s tone was one of resignation. 【Ugh, you just have to take the L on this one.】 The implication was clear: if I just ignored it, it would eventually blow over. But when I got back to my dorm after my morning classes and opened my laptop to do some homework, my notifications were exploding. 【Go die, you bully!】 【Who the hell do you think you are, flaming our Amanda?】 【You think everyone has to put up with your crap, bully?】 【Apologize to our Amanda publicly, or we’ll doxx you!】 A flood of abusive messages, like an overflowing dumpster, assaulted my eyes. I read a few, my frown deepening. Her fans weren’t just flaming me on social media; they were threatening to find my personal information. This was seriously affecting my life. So I opened my social media and posted: 【I will not be apologizing. Since Amanda Rose is a public figure, she should be even more mindful of her words and actions. She was the one who provoked me in the game first. After I quit, she pulled me into a custom lobby to humiliate me. My cursing her out was justified. If we’re talking about who’s at fault, her actions were far worse than mine. Furthermore, she guided her fans to cyberbully and personally attack me, which has caused me extreme distress. I hope she will clarify the situation and act with some integrity.】 4 I thought that by posting this, I could at least correct some of their misconceptions. I wasn’t hoping for an apology, just for the vicious attacks to stop. But the comments below were a unified front of condemnation: 【Everyone knows Amanda was just creating content for her stream. You’re the one who can’t take a joke, and you have a filthy mouth. You nearly made our Amanda cry.】 【Exactly. Amanda is gentle, but we, her fans, are not to be messed with.】 【Why should we show integrity to a bully like you? We’re fighting fire with fire!】 【Less talk, more apologizing!】 And Amanda Rose, the person I tagged in my post, eventually responded with a reluctant-sounding post of her own: 【I’m so sorry this has caused you trouble. I had no idea my fans would go and bully you. But I don’t want to dwell on this anymore, let’s just pretend it never happened.】 My eyelid twitched violently. Never happened? So I was just supposed to take all that abuse for nothing? I immediately replied: 【You don’t get to just say it never happened. I’m the one being cyberbullied and threatened with doxxing. They have seriously disrupted my life. Aren’t you going to do anything to stop them?】 Amanda replied back: 【But I didn’t say anything to them. They’re just worried I’ll be upset. Please don’t blame them.】 Seeing Amanda defend them so ardently, her fans went into a frenzy. In a single afternoon, they spammed my social media until it crashed. Someone even managed to find out which university I attended. They flooded our school’s online forum, publicly insulting and cursing me, demanding that I apologize to Amanda immediately. 5 An apology was out of the question. And Amanda had already blocked me on social media. Since they wouldn’t listen to reason, I had no choice but to go offline and ignore the slander. But I never expected this. During my evening study session, as I was getting settled in the classroom, two girls sat down in front of me and demanded aggressively, “Ivy Lee, are you really going to be so stubborn and not apologize to Amanda Rose?” “It’s bad enough you’re spewing filth online, but now you’re dragging our school’s reputation through the mud.” “No one at school knows it was you yet. You should apologize on social media right now, before we expose you.” I calmly arranged my books, then looked up. “Have you not seen my explanation on social media?” “So what? Amanda was live the whole time, we all saw it. Who’s going to believe you?” “If you don’t believe me, then don’t bother me.” I sneered. “Be careful, or I’ll curse you out too.” The two girls were speechless. They hadn’t expected me to be so tough. With dark expressions, they left, pulling out their phones. I guessed they were going to complain on the forum about how unreasonable I was. The other students in the class who had been itching to talk to me saw how fierce I was and gave up. Just when I thought I could finally have some peace, a basketball slammed onto my desk. My glass water bottle shattered instantly, spilling hot water all over my books and my arm. I yelped in pain. I looked up angrily to see Mark Momoa striding towards me, his face a cold mask. “Ivy Lee. Get on social media and apologize to Amanda right now.” 6 Mark was the captain of the school basketball team. Last semester, I had delivered water to him twice as a favor for my roommate. Because I was known as the school’s “ice queen,” and it was the first time I’d ever been seen giving a guy anything, a rumor started that I had a crush on him. But when he heard the rumor, he had frowned and said, “Ivy Lee? No impression. Not interested.” After I heard that, I never delivered water for my roommate again. But the rumor that I was a desperate fangirl, unrequited in my love, spread throughout the school. I gritted my teeth against the stinging pain in my hand and asked coldly, “Are you insane?” Mark sneered, his eyes filled with disgust. “Anyone who has my number on campus knows I’m a fan of Amanda Rose. You were probably just jealous that I like her, so you stalked her stream and then cursed her out.” I was utterly stunned by his bizarre logic. “Mark, is there something wrong with your brain? I was unlucky enough to get matched with her twice, and you think I was deliberately stalking her? Besides, I don’t have your number. How would I know which celebrity you follow? And who you like is none of my damn business.” Mark looked at me as if I were making excuses, and said impatiently, “You said it yourself, you got matched with her twice. If you weren’t deliberately queuing at the same time, how could that be a coincidence? And you don’t have my number because I didn’t want to give it to you, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t find other ways to stalk me.” He took two steps closer, his voice aggressive. “If Amanda hadn’t been wronged, you would never have had the chance to even speak to me in your life. I’m not wasting my breath on you. Apologize to her. Now.” I scoffed. “You’re so concerned with right and wrong. So what about you smashing my bottle and burning my hand?” Mark frowned, dismissive. “I can replace the bottle. I can pay for your medical expenses. As long as you apologize, we can settle this.” “Is that so? Then you can start by replacing my bottle. It’s four hundred and fifty dollars.” Mark glanced at the shards of glass on the floor and laughed. “You? Let’s not even talk about whether this cheap bottle is worth four-fifty. Even if it was, could you even afford a four-hundred-fifty-dollar bottle? I think you’re just broke and trying to extort me.” 7 I rolled my eyes and picked up a piece of the shattered glass that had the brand logo and a QR code on it. “You can scan it to see if it’s authentic. After you’ve confirmed, find a personal shopper to buy me a new one. If you don’t know where to look, I can recommend someone.” Seeing my certainty, Mark’s confident expression faltered for a second. A moment later, he changed the subject. “Ivy, you’re just trying to get my attention, aren’t you? This is such a pathetic move. If you insist on not apologizing to Amanda, don’t blame me for exposing your identity on the forum.” I said, deadpan, “Go ahead. I’m not the one in the wrong. When your goddess personally comes out to clear my name, I’ll be holding you accountable.” Mark glared at me and started to walk away in a huff. “Wait.” “What?” He thought I had given in, and shot me a disdainful look. I stuffed the glass shard with the QR code into his jacket pocket. “You think you can just act tough and walk away? Not so fast. Don’t forget to replace my bottle. I’m going to the infirmary later, and I’ll give you the bill for my medical expenses tomorrow.” Mark stared at me in disbelief, as if I were a madwoman. He seemed genuinely shocked that I was actually going to make him pay. But I didn’t expect him to be so brainless. He actually went to the school forum and posted, outing me as the person who had cursed out Amanda Rose in the game. Instantly, the forum was flooded with Amanda’s fans. They found my student ID photo and started photoshopping it into ugly memes and funeral portraits, plastering them all over the forum. The entire site was spammed with posts demanding “Ivy Lee apologize to Amanda Rose.” The rumors became so rampant that the school administration had to call me in for a talk, urging me to resolve the matter quickly. 8 In the principal’s office, he spoke to me in a fatherly tone. “It’s just an apology. When you do something wrong, you have to take responsibility. Besides, cursing at people is a bad habit.” My voice was cold. “I did curse at her, but there was a reason. I was not the one who was wrong first. And after suffering such a massive cyberbullying campaign, shouldn’t Amanda Rose and Mark Momoa be the ones apologizing to me first?” The principal sighed, frustrated. “Even if you did nothing wrong, she’s a celebrity with tens of millions of fans. As the saying goes, a commoner can’t fight an official. You could have ten mouths and still not be able to argue your case. It’s better to just bow your head, put this to rest, and get some peace.” I sneered. “So you’re saying that because she’s using public opinion and power to crush me, I have to submit?” The principal shrugged. “There’s nothing to be done. You’re just one person. No one will listen to your side of the story.” I rolled my eyes. “I will make Amanda Rose beg to clear my name.” The principal clearly didn’t believe me. He rubbed his temples, looking stressed. “The negative attention on the forum is affecting the school. I’m going to have the administrators shut it down for a week. You have one week to resolve this. Otherwise, the school will have to take disciplinary action.” I looked up. “Such as?” “Such as ordering you to write a self-criticism essay, and posting a public notice about it on the school-wide forum.” I pressed my lips together. A self-criticism essay and a public notice would mean that even if it wasn’t my fault, I would be forced to take the blame. I couldn’t swallow that. So I said coldly, “If this matter is cleared up, I expect the school to require Mark Momoa to apologize to me.” The principal nodded. “If it can be proven that you were the victim, then Mark’s actions will certainly warrant a public reprimand.” With the principal’s affirmation, I said no more and left his office. I pulled out my phone and called my assistant, Alex. “Alex, I need you to get me the contact information for an actress named Amanda Rose. I need to speak with her.” Alex was puzzled. “She’s just a minor actress, Ms. Lee. There’s no need for you to contact her personally. We can just notify her agent if there’s an issue.” I gritted my teeth and sneered. “Oh, it’s absolutely necessary.” 9 Alex wasn’t exaggerating. My father, a permanent fixture on the top ten richest list, owned the largest entertainment company in the country, along with a vast network of connections and resources. A minor actress like Amanda Rose wouldn’t even qualify for an invitation to our family’s business galas. The reason I chose to contact her myself, rather than have Alex handle it, was because if Alex intervened, she would most likely be blacklisted or never get work again. I didn’t want to see that happen unless it was absolutely necessary. Everyone has their struggles. I ended the call and sighed, giving myself a thumbs-up. I really was a kind person. But that afternoon, I ate my words. Alex quickly got me Amanda’s number. I dialed, and a delicate female voice answered. “Hello? Who is this?” I spoke calmly. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Ivy Lee. I was the Seraphina you were matched with during your livestream.” “…” A long silence on the other end. Then, a barrage of questions. “This is my private number. How did you get it? Did you use some illegal means? Do you want me to call the police? What do you want? Isn’t this whole thing over? Why are you still harassing me?” I was speechless for a few seconds, too tired to answer her idiotic questions. I just stated my demands. “Who said it was over? You deliberately led your fans to cyberbully me. It was bad enough they were flaming me in the game and on social media, but now they’ve taken over my school’s forum and are seriously disrupting my life. You were the one who started it in the game. I demand that you clarify this matter, and you and your fans must apologize to me.” After hearing me out, Amanda sneered. “Are you okay, lady? Apologize? I’m a public figure. Why should I apologize to some poor student? If you’re trying to ride my coattails, you can start your own livestream now. Maybe you’ll even get famous for being infamous.” With that, she hung up on me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393452”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was a model, five years in the industry, and I’d been criticized for everything imaginable. Worse, I’d offended the darling of the heir to the Holt Corporation. I was blacklisted, my name dragged through the mud. In the glittering world of fame and fortune, I was taught a harsh lesson. Then, the internet dug up my past: I had once been engaged to that very heir, Jason Holt. The trolls were ecstatic. “No wonder Jason Holt hates her so much. With her background, how could she ever be Mrs. Holt?” “It has to be Miss Miller. She’s sweet, a talented actress, and the perfect future daughter-in-law for the Holts.” I walked out of the hospital. For the first time in a long while, I opened my social media and posted a single line. “An engagement can be broken at any time. I will never marry.” Later, I went to the Arctic to see the aurora. I left one final message. “Saw the northern lights. In this one second, I was happy.” 1 The moment I was diagnosed with bone cancer, my world went numb. Leaning against the hospital corridor, my eyes felt dry and empty, my limbs refusing to move. My manager, Sarah, stood frozen for a long moment before gently pulling my head onto her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “Maybe there’ll be a miracle. You can be cured.” I didn’t cry. The world just felt… quiet. Finally, I was the one to break the silence. “Sarah, let’s go over my current contracts. I want to finish everything up early, and then I’ll retire.” My words shattered her composure. She hugged me tightly, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The next day, I was trending for all the wrong reasons. “Washed-up model Clara Lynn spotted at hospital, rumored to have had an abortion for a wealthy tycoon.” “Zoom in on the picture. Her eyes are red. The tycoon must not have wanted the baby. She tried to trap him and failed.” “LOL, this is hilarious. The most shameless person in entertainment.” “Three years ago, there were rumors she was beaten up by the tycoon’s wife.” Sarah stormed into my apartment, fuming. “This is absolute garbage.” “That’s it. I’m suing them for defamation. These rumor-mongers need to be held accountable.” But the company’s response was cold. “Sarah, bad press is still press.” It was clear they had no intention of taking down the posts. They’d already branded me as that kind of celebrity. I shook my head, signaling for Sarah to let it go. The online hate… I truly couldn’t feel it anymore. 2 On the set of “The Artisan,” I ran into Jason Holt. And, of course, a young actress named Mia Miller. It was only then that I realized Holt Corporation had invested in the film. Mia, originally cast as the second female lead, had been elevated to co-lead. Sarah was furious. She confronted the producer. “Clara pushed aside all her other work for this film. She spent a year studying with a master carver, who personally requested her for the lead role. Now you’re making the second lead a co-lead? What is the meaning of this?” The producer just shrugged. “Holt Corporation is the investor. My hands are tied.” As the producer walked away, I pulled Sarah back. “Let’s run my lines.” In the break room, I was silently reciting my script when a tall figure walked past the door, followed by a pretty young woman. “Jason,” she said, her voice sweet, “I’m so happy you could be here for the first day of filming.” The man grunted a cool “Mm.” 3 During filming, the director’s standards were sky-high. Mia messed up her lines repeatedly, slowing down the entire production. But no one dared to complain. Even after Jason left, his presence lingered, and no one wanted to cross Mia. We wrapped the last night scene after midnight. Too exhausted to even remove my makeup, I ducked into the bathroom. The sink was filled with blood. My hands trembled. As I came out, I unexpectedly ran into Jason. He glanced at me, his eyes cold. Our gazes met for a brief, charged moment. I clenched my fists. I was about to walk over, to say something, anything. But he had already stubbed out his cigarette and turned away. Five years ago, when we broke up, he’d said, “Clara, if you don’t go abroad with me, we’re over.” Five years ago, he left the country, and I entered the entertainment industry. 4 The next day, Jason hired the best acting coach to tutor Mia on set. Her number of takes decreased dramatically. The filming schedule got back on track, which was a relief for me. My increasingly frail body appreciated the shorter days. But two weeks later, during a scene where I was supposed to be slapped, Mia couldn’t get it right. We spent the entire morning on that one scene. I was slapped more than ten times. And of course, Jason chose that day to visit the set. The director, fuming but helpless, could only patiently demonstrate the correct way to perform the slap over and over. But Mia seemed to have lost her mind that day, unable to learn. Finally, on her last attempt, my nose started to bleed profusely. A flicker of fear crossed her eyes. The next take, she finally got it right. During the lunch break, my head was spinning, and the nosebleed wouldn’t stop. My face was ashen. Sarah, terrified, said she would ask for the afternoon off so I could go to the hospital. I shook my head and told her to close the door. I swallowed a handful of pills, trying to numb the pain that wracked my body. When I seemed a little better, Sarah opened the door to get me some food. Just then, Jason walked past. He glanced in, his brow furrowed at the sight of me wrapped in a thick blanket on a hot summer day, with drops of blood on the floor. Sarah slammed the door shut. “Mr. Holt, you see that?” she snapped. “Acting requires talent. People who can’t act are just here to cause trouble.” “A few slaps and she’s this weak? Then I suggest Miss Lynn quit acting and find a few more sugar daddies.” “You—” Jason turned and walked away. Sarah’s anger still hadn’t subsided. “Mr. Holt, don’t forget, you and Clara still have an engagement.” His footsteps paused. “She’s that filthy. You think I’d marry her?” Crash. The cup in my hand fell to the floor, shattering. Hot water splashed onto my feet. Sarah turned, saw the blood trickling down my leg from a shard of glass, and cried out. “Are you okay, Clara?” As she helped me clean the wound, she continued to rage at the empty doorway. “You don’t want to marry her? In the future, you won’t even have the chance.” The man, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke, was gone. 5 Throughout the shoot, Sarah was constantly on the verge of exploding. The promotional materials released to the public were all edited to show Mia out-acting me, making it look like I couldn’t keep up. That I was unprofessional, constantly delaying the production. I was back on the trending hate list. “So annoying. If you can’t act, just quit. Stop wasting everyone’s time.” “Exactly. I feel so bad for our Mia, having to act opposite someone so unprofessional. What bad luck.” “I was at the set. Clara kept messing up her blocking. Mia had to slap her for the scene, but she kept flinching. They did over ten takes. Mia was so frustrated she was crying by the end.” Sarah turned off her phone, pacing in frustration. “This is insane! They’re twisting everything, completely reversing the truth!” I said nothing, just kept scrolling. Finally, I found a small, quiet voice of support. “Wait, really? I thought Clara’s acting was great. I cried so much watching her as the blind girl in ‘The Last Empress.’” Seeing that comment, my brow finally relaxed. There was no point in getting angry. I tugged on Sarah’s arm. “How can you not be angry? This is clearly Mia’s team, maliciously editing videos to leech off your popularity and build her up.” I shook my head. “When the show airs, everyone will be able to judge for themselves. Don’t worry about it.” “You’re wrong. Her team is powerful. I’m afraid they’ll pull some other stunt.” I fell silent. “Sarah, I just want to finish this film. It’s the most important thing I want to accomplish in my life.” Sarah quieted down. The film was about a master woodcarver, and our family had once been in that business. I wanted to fulfill my parents’ last wish, to bring the traditional art of woodcarving to the big screen for more people to see. 6 As filming neared its end, my body grew thinner. Fortunately, this matched the plot, where my character runs herself ragged trying to get her woodcarving business off the ground. After the final major scene, the director patted my shoulder. “You’ve worked hard, Clara. You were brilliant.” Being praised by the director made me happy. “Thank you, Director.” I headed back to the dressing room to prepare for the next scene. Sarah was also relieved. “This film is finally wrapping up. I was so worried you wouldn’t make it. Thank God.” She clasped her hands together, looking up at the ceiling. Then, she picked up the jade good-luck charm from my dressing table. “No, I should be thanking your aunt. She must be watching over you from heaven.” I smiled and took the jade charm, pressing it to my chest. It was a gift from my mother. Through all the hardest times, it had been my constant companion. But just as I stood up to change my shoes, a sudden force slammed into the dressing table. My jade charm was swept to the floor, shattering into pieces. I froze. Mia stared, wide-eyed. The dressing room fell silent. Everyone knew how much that jade charm meant to me. It was my lucky charm. And now, it was broken. Mia stammered, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. My foot slipped.” I didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, I knelt and carefully gathered the broken pieces, wrapping them in a handkerchief. Sarah lunged at Mia, but the director came in just then, urging us to hurry. I stopped her. “Let’s film first.” 7 After the final moonlit scene, I sat on the stone steps, silently unwrapping the broken jade pieces. “Mia already wrapped and left. She sure ran off fast.” I didn’t say anything, just stared at the fractured characters for “peace” and “safety.” Just then, my phone lit up. I numbly pulled it out. It was Jason, who hadn’t contacted me in five years. A single, short message. “Don’t cause her any trouble. How much? I’ll pay for it.” I stared at the words, a sharp pain twisting in my chest. Did he know what he was offering to pay for? Did he remember that this was the jade charm my mother, on her deathbed, had taken from her own neck and given to me, as I stood there with him by her side? “My dear, I have nothing left to give you. Wear this charm. It will keep you safe for a lifetime.” The faded memories sharpened, becoming painfully clear. After my mother closed her eyes for the last time, I had clung to her cold body, sobbing uncontrollably. It was Jason who had held me from behind. “Don’t cry, Clara. You still have me.” I traced the two halves of the broken characters. As I did, a warm liquid dripped from my nose, staining them red. After five years, I didn’t reply to his message. I just deleted his contact. 8 The next day, I learned that Mia had already posted on social media the night before, tagging me. “I’m so sorry, Clara. I really didn’t mean to break it. I’ll buy you an identical one. Please don’t be mad at me, everyone. If you have to be mad, please be gentle.” The post was followed by two bowing emojis. I had been in the hospital all night, fighting for my life. When I woke up, I was at the top of the hate list. Mia’s comments section was full of people attacking me. My own account was flooded with trolls. “Mia already apologized and offered to pay. What more do you want?” “Why are you being silent? Do you want her to kneel and beg for your forgiveness?” “Live and let live.” Mia’s comments, on the other hand, were full of comfort. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. It was an accident. It’s not your fault.” “Exactly. Everyone makes mistakes. It’s no big deal.” “Mia is the most sincere apologizer I’ve ever seen.” “LOL, those two bowing emojis are so cute!” “Protect Mia! Don’t let that washed-up model make a big deal out of nothing.” “What’s there to be afraid of? Our Mia is dating the heir to Holt Corporation. No one can bully her.” “Haha, her sugar daddy is probably in his forties.” “Not only is Mr. Holt handsome, he’s worth billions. I heard he’s already introduced Mia to his parents.” I turned off my phone. I couldn’t look anymore. I just stared blankly at the tube feeding blood into my body. Sarah tucked the blanket around me. “Aren’t you going to respond?” She knew that if I didn’t, the company wouldn’t either. I would be subjected to the online abuse for a long time. I just shook my head. “Sarah, I’m so tired.” 9 I was in the hospital for a week. My condition had worsened to the point where I had to stay. I was too weak to even get out of bed. My hair was falling out in clumps. After a week of intensive treatment, I was finally feeling a little better. I was getting ready to leave for a voice-over session when Sarah rushed in. “What’s wrong?” I asked, putting on my jacket. She stared at me for a long moment. “Your past relationship with Jason has been exposed.” My hand trembled as I buttoned my jacket. In the car on the way to the recording studio, I stared at the rampant speculation on social media, my face devoid of expression. It had all started with an anonymous blogger. “Explosive news: Five years ago, Jason Holt and Clara Lynn were engaged.” The post created a storm. Jason had always been a mystery to the media. Even with Mia, there were only one or two photos of them together. His private life was a well-guarded secret. This revelation sent the internet into a frenzy. At first, people were skeptical. But then the blogger released photos of us from college. A photo of me at the Holt family mansion. A photo of me and Jason having dinner with his elders. The doubters fell silent. The conversation shifted. “What is going on?” “Didn’t Clara become a model because she needed money? In these photos, she looks so… poised.” Soon, my family background was unearthed. “Clara is the daughter of the bankrupted Lynn Corporation? Oh my god, after the bankruptcy, her father was killed by debt collectors, and her mother committed suicide and couldn’t be saved.” “I believe it. Clara being the daughter of the Lynn family and being engaged to the Holts makes perfect sense.” My past was laid bare. My hands trembled uncontrollably. Then, just as quickly as they appeared, the posts vanished, as if someone had deliberately suppressed them. I guessed it was the Holt family. I thought that would be the end of it. But the hate comments on my own account continued. “Did you leak this yourself? For attention?” “Stop dreaming. Jason Holt is not for you. He belongs to Mia.” “That’s right. Jason only loves Mia.” “Can you even compare yourself to Mia? You started as a trashy model, you’ve probably been passed around by everyone. Mia isn’t like you. She’s pure, a graduate of a prestigious overseas university.” “Haha, no wonder. She used to have an endorsement deal with Holt Corp, but as soon as Jason took over, he canceled it. He must have been disgusted with her for a long time.” 10 It was evening when I left the recording studio. Sarah was squatting nearby, furiously typing on her phone. “Sarah?” I called out. She looked up, quickly hiding her phone. “What’s going on online now?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nothing. We’re done for the day. Let’s go.” But as she turned, I snatched her phone and looked at the screen. I froze. The trolls had started attacking Sarah. Vicious, hateful comments about her parents, her children. I couldn’t stay silent any longer. I logged into my own account. “An engagement can be broken at any time. I will never marry.” When Sarah saw the post, she gently stroked my hair. Only she knew what “I will never marry” really meant. Faced with the overwhelming hate, she had suggested more than once that we release my medical records. But I had refused. It wouldn’t do any good. With the public so firmly against me, even if I was dying, they would probably just accuse me of faking a terminal illness for sympathy. Perhaps only on the day I actually died would the slander finally, maybe, quiet down. 11 I never expected to get a call from Jason that night. The night was still. Neither of us spoke. I didn’t know what he was doing. I looked at the moon outside the hospital window and broke the silence. “You should release a statement. The engagement is off. We have no relationship.” His breathing on the other end of the line quickened. “Clara, are you sure about this? The Holt family’s official channels haven’t said anything. That means you still have a chance.” “Once they do, there’s no going back for us. Ever.” I suddenly spoke. “Jason, do you want to marry me?” “If you did, I wouldn’t have had to wait until now.” I raised a hand to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “It was over for us a long time ago. We just never said goodbye.” “This is the real goodbye. Goodbye to the us we were before we were twenty.” I hung up. The silence in the room was chilling. 12 I never expected Mrs. Holt to summon me. When I left the recording studio, the Holt family’s driver was waiting for me. I got in the car. It had been five years since I’d last seen the elegant and regal Mrs. Holt. She was as noble as ever. I no longer had the same cautious timidity I’d had back then. She poured me a cup of tea, a pleased smile on her face. Just as I was about to speak, the butler announced, “Madam, Miss Miller’s shawl was left here last time.” I looked at the pale pink shawl the butler was holding. “Put it away. She’ll be here later for lunch with Jason.” Mrs. Holt’s words were directed at me, her eyes watching my reaction. I showed none. Just then, there was a sound from the staircase. A sharp, piercing gaze fell upon me. The pain in my body suddenly flared. I put down the velvet box I was holding. “I have something else to do. I should go now. I won’t disturb you.” As I stood to leave, the smell of blood filled my nostrils. I quickly covered my nose and hurried away. “Wait.” “Is there something else?” I froze, my body stiff. The person from the stairs came down and picked up the box from the coffee table. “You’re returning the ring?” “Yes. Things should be returned to their rightful owner.” “Take it. I don’t have a habit of taking back gifts.” It was useless to him, of course. He would just buy a new one. But from my perspective, I had no right to keep it. “I can’t accept it. If you don’t want it back, throw it away.” Footsteps approached from behind. I didn’t dare linger. I ran. By the time I was in a taxi, my palm was slick with blood from my nose.

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My childhood best friend, Monica, looked like she belonged on a movie screen. The line of guys hoping to ask her out could’ve stretched around the block. One day, I asked her if I could cut in line. She rolled her eyes and told me I was nuts. “Alright, you think I’m nuts? Fine. From this moment on, Monica Dean, I’m going full-on psycho. I’m shutting down every guy who even thinks about you.” 1 From that day forward, whenever someone tried to confess their feelings to Monica, I would be there to “run interference.” I’d yell at the top of my lungs, “Monica Dean doesn’t shower for weeks at a time! And she has the worst case of athlete’s foot you’ve ever seen! The second she takes her shoes off, the stench could knock you out from a block away!” Every time I did this, Monica would fly into a rage, screaming, “Johnny Vance, you are so dead!” Monica and I were the definition of childhood sweethearts, having grown up side-by-side. She was the kid every parent compared their own to—not just stunningly beautiful, but brilliant in school, too. There was never a shortage of guys trying to win her over. The first thing she did every morning when she got to her desk was to sweep the pile of love-offering breakfasts into my arms. Thanks to the money I saved on food, I built up a pretty respectable comic book collection. Of course, I didn’t get all this for free. More often than not, I’d do her chores at home so she could have quiet time to study. Sometimes, I even took the beatings meant for her. Her father was a drunk and a misogynist who bitterly resented the fact that his wife, frail and in poor health, had only managed to give him a daughter. Having another child, a son, was out of the question. Because of this, he’d beat her mother when he was drunk. Even when he was sober, he’d find excuses to lash out at them. His favorite line was that his life was cursed, that he’d married a woman with a “useless womb” who gave him a “worthless girl,” making him a laughingstock. Monica had a stubborn streak. Every time he said it, she’d fire back. She’d say her mom was the best mom in the world, and she wasn’t worthless. The man standing in front of them, the one who beat his wife and daughter, he was the most pathetic, useless man on earth. And every time she said it, she’d get a brutal beating. Her mother would always tell her to just endure it, that he’d be better once the alcohol wore off. But Monica refused to back down, wiping away tears as she cried, “Mom, you’ve put up with this for years! Has he ever changed? Has he ever gotten better?” One time, her dad pulled off his belt and came at Monica. I saw it happen and rushed forward, wrapping my arms around his legs. I screamed for Monica to run. But she just stood there, refusing to move. “I’m not running,” she said. “If he has the guts, let him kill me.” Her dad cursed at me, telling me to let go or he’d beat me too. But I held on for dear life. In my heart, Monica was someone I had to protect. And so, the leather belt in her father’s hand came down hard on my back, again and again. It stung so bad it felt like my skin was splitting open, and I howled in pain. Finally, my parents burst in and stopped the whole tragic affair. Later, as my mom was putting ointment on my back, she said I had rocks in my head. “Someone’s hitting you with a belt and you don’t even know to run?” “I couldn’t run,” I said. “If I ran, what would happen to Monica?” My mom sighed. “You little rascal. I know you like Monica. But couldn’t you have grabbed her and run together?” My face instantly turned bright red. “I don’t like her! I just… I just didn’t want to see her get hurt.” My mom didn’t scold me for taking a beating for Monica. On the contrary, her heart ached for her. Every time Monica came over to do homework or play, my mom would see the bruises on her arms and couldn’t help but ask, “Honey, does it hurt?” Monica would always put on a brave face. “Not at all, Auntie.” My mom would dab ointment on her wounds, her own eyes welling up with tears at the sight of her. But this was the nineties. A woman in our small town had no voice. Just saying the word “divorce” was considered a sin. 2 Monica had tried to convince her mom to divorce her dad. Her mom had flown into a rage, scolding Monica and accusing her of trying to turn her into a shameless, disgraced woman. In her anger, Monica’s mother, for the first time ever, hit her. Monica had endured countless beatings from that man without shedding a single tear. But this time, the tears flowed freely. After that, Monica never mentioned divorce to her mother again. She also stopped telling me how pitiful her mom was, how unlucky her life had been. When we got to college, Monica essentially cut off all contact with her family. She paid her way through school with work-study jobs. During winter and summer breaks, she barely ever went home, staying on campus to work and earn money. My mom’s heart went out to her. She’d say, “That girl has it so tough,” and would often slip me extra cash, telling me to take good care of Monica. In college, Monica’s aura seemed to grow even more somber. Her cool, distant eyes always seemed to keep people a thousand miles away. She was tall, with flawless skin and exquisitely delicate features. She could just sit there, doing nothing, and outshine everything around her. There was a “Campus Queen” poll on the university’s online forum, and her votes were so far ahead of everyone else’s that she won by a landslide. The number of guys trying to date her back then was staggering. I could have paid for a decent meal just by selling the love letters she received as scrap paper. Because everyone knew we were close, and they’d confirmed we weren’t a couple, a lot of guys tried to get to her through me. Until one day, I asked Monica, “Can I cut in line?” She gave me a long, serious look and told me I was insane. From then on, whenever someone asked me for her contact info, I told them about her supposed athlete’s foot and her aversion to showering, and how the stench could kill a man. I’d add that it was an incurable condition, and whoever ended up with her would suffer for life. After I spread this rumor, the number of her pursuers did, in fact, drop significantly. Monica seemed to enjoy the peace and quiet. But then a post exploded on the university forum. It detailed Monica’s tragic background: her alcoholic, abusive father, the constant fighting at home, her unhappy childhood. It mentioned that she was putting herself through college all on her own. The post shot to the top of the forum’s hot list. Suddenly, my story about her being a smelly girl with foot fungus was completely forgotten. A wave of chivalrous sympathy washed over the male student body. They started sending her all sorts of things, and the number of guys pursuing her became even greater than before. There was always a crowd of them waiting outside her dorm. They wanted to fetch her water, save her a seat in the library, and some even tried to just hand her money. Monica was beyond annoyed. She put a “hit” out on me. She said I had leaked her private life to the world, and she would never forgive me. Growing up, Monica was the undisputed leader of the neighborhood kids. If you crossed her, she would make you pay, and she showed no mercy. 3 I had lived my entire life under Monica’s “reign of terror.” So when I heard she had put a hit out on me, my first instinct was to find a place to hide. But I had seriously underestimated her influence on campus. I thought I’d be safe in the men’s dorm, that she couldn’t get to me there. But when her legion of admirers heard about the hit, they eagerly volunteered to help. They dragged me out of my own dorm room. A mob of guys shoved me in front of Monica, all of them trying to claim credit. Monica dismissed her followers and grabbed me by the ear, parading me across campus for all to see. She dragged me to a secluded spot and told me to get on my knees and repent. I looked at her and said, “Monica, I swear to God, you’ve got the wrong guy. I didn’t post that on the forum.” She stared at me, her gaze like ice. “Johnny, do you really think I’d believe you? In this university, so far from our hometown, who else knows about my family besides you?” “It really wasn’t me.” I didn’t know how to explain. She was right. In this place, miles away from home, I was the only one who knew her secrets. I had only applied to this university because I found out she was coming here. We had left our old lives behind to start fresh. We were from the warm south, and this northern city was freezing. I had a hard time adjusting at first. My mom had told me, “You little rascal, you wear your heart on your sleeve. If you didn’t like Monica, would you really have moved so far away?” “If it wasn’t you, then who was it? Did you tell someone else about my past?” she demanded. I knew it was her private life. Many people had asked, but I had never told a soul. “No, Monica, I swear. I didn’t post it, and I’ve never told anyone about your family.” Her expression suddenly changed. “And you think I’d believe that? When we were kids, you’d sell me out for a single piece of candy. Now, for some petty gain, you’d leak my information. It’s not impossible.” Hearing her say that, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. When we were kids, playing hide-and-seek, Monica was a master. She would always find a spot where no one could find her. But I knew her habits. No matter where she hid, I could always find her. Once, another kid gave me a piece of candy to reveal her hiding spot. Monica was found, lost the game, and chewed me out for what felt like an eternity. She swore she’d never speak to me again. But what she didn’t know was that it was a White Rabbit candy—her absolute favorite. I kept it hidden for a long time, not daring to give it to her while she was still mad. Later, I gave it to her as a surprise. It was a sunny afternoon. We were sitting on a tree branch. She ate the candy, her face lit up with a blissful smile. She even carefully folded the wrapper and handed it to me. “Here, keep this safe for me.” I happily took the wrapper, my own mouth watering a little. But seeing her happy made me even happier. But now, her misunderstanding cut me deep. “Monica, you really don’t believe me?” I asked, looking up at her.

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1 “Let’s try dating if we’re both single at twenty-eight.” Because of his first love’s drunken promise, he rejected my proposals eight times. When I learned the truth, I gave up. “Dad, Mom… I’ll come home. I’ll marry him.” Their relieved voices crackled through the phone. “Nina! As Tang Corporation’s heir, you can’t wander forever. How about a January 19th wedding? When can you meet him—” The bedroom door burst open. “Whose wedding?” Nicholas frowned. I hung up, deadpanning: “A friend’s. She wants me as bridesmaid.” He shrugged. “Go ahead. I’m too busy to join you.” “Fine.” My quick agreement surprised him. As he showered, his jacket buzzed. I pulled out his phone. A message from “Aria” glowed on the screen. “You still remember what I said back then? Don’t tell me you’re actually planning on marrying me, haha.” My hand froze. I swiped up. The message Nicholas had sent her just minutes before stared back at me. “Aria, in thirty-three days, it will be your twenty-eight birthday. Do you remember what you promised me?” I laughed. A drunken joke, and he had been waiting all these years. In thirty-three days, Aria would turn twenty-eight. It was also the day I had chosen to break up with him, go home, and get married. I hoped he got his wish. The bathroom door opened. Nicholas walked out, toweling his hair, and sat beside me. “Your phone buzzed a few times,” I said calmly. He quickly dried his hands and grabbed the phone, his eyes scanning the screen with an intense focus I rarely saw. “Who is it?” I asked lightly. His usual calm demeanor vanished. He stood up abruptly. “It’s work. I need to take care of this. You go to bed first.” I saw the defensiveness in his eyes, the poorly constructed lie, and a bitter self-mockery welled up inside me. I simply nodded. As he disappeared into the study, I turned off the lights and lay down. Hours later, the faintest of footsteps creaked in the dark room. A softly glowing phone was placed on the nightstand, and an arm gently wrapped around my waist. I waited until his breathing became deep and even before I opened my eyes, reached over, and took his phone. The chat was still open. He had added a single, four-word reply. “Never forgotten, never will.” A simple phrase, yet I could picture him typing it. Lips pressed together, eyes glued to the screen, carefully composing and deleting, weighing each word. Desperate for his feelings to be known, yet terrified of revealing too much. He only ever showed this kind of cautious devotion to Aria. A bitter smile touched my lips. I opened his social media profile. The background was a stark black image. But if you looked closely, you could see a single line of text at the bottom. “What you never forget, you will one day have.” When we first got together, I’d asked him about it. He’d brushed it off, saying it was just a random picture he found online. Now I knew the truth. It wasn’t random at all. It was a calculated, heartfelt declaration. He was waiting for her twenty-eighth birthday. Waiting for Aria to finally say yes. I lay awake all night. As dawn broke, he started to stir. I opened my eyes. “Let’s get off work early today.” He paused, fastening his cufflinks. “Why? Is something wrong?” “It’s your birthday,” I said quietly. “Did you forget?” He froze for a second. His mind had been so consumed with Aria’s twenty-eighth birthday promise that he’d forgotten his own. “Let’s just cancel it,” he said. “Keep it simple.” For years, I had been the one to plan his birthdays, pouring my heart into lavish parties just to see him smile. He never appreciated it. So, hearing him say that now, a wave of self-pity washed over me. “It’s already planned. Everyone’s coming. It’s too late to cancel.” I’d started planning this party three months ago, back when I still believed I was the only one. He didn’t argue further. He just grabbed his phone and left the room, a slight frown creasing his brow. I looked down, whispering to myself, “Not anymore.” I would never plan another birthday for him again. 2 The first thing I did at the office was hand in my resignation. The news sent a shockwave through the department. “Nina, you’re leaving? Just like that? Do you have another job lined up?” “So sudden! Don’t tell me you’re going home to inherit a billion-dollar fortune!” a coworker joked. I smiled. “I’m going home to get married.” That explanation satisfied most of them, but my closest work friend, Chloe, pulled me aside. “Nina, did he finally propose? I thought he avoided the topic of marriage like the plague.” I didn’t want to explain. “Thanks for everything all these years. Dinner’s on me tonight.” After a two-hour dinner with a few colleagues, it was already eight o’clock by the time I reached the hotel for Nicholas’s party. As I approached the private room, I heard voices from within and paused. “It’s freezing out. Who did Nick go to pick up?” “Who else? Aria, of course. She said she was coming back today, and he ran off like an eager puppy.” “So he must be thrilled, right? It’s his twenty-eighth birthday today, and she’ll be twenty-eight in a month. She’s not really back to fulfill that promise, is she?” “But if they get together, what about Nina? It’s been seven years, and she doesn’t even know who Aria is. She’s completely devoted to him.” “What can you do? Nick’s been hung up on Aria forever. If she says yes, Nina’s out. It’s just bad luck. At least she doesn’t come from a powerful family, so it’ll be easy to pay her off.” “I know she’s been great to us and to Nick, but we’re his friends. We have to be on his side. When they break up, we should handle it for him. Give her a car, a condo… a nice severance package.” I listened, feeling a strange sense of detachment. Now that I had a plan, the pain from a few weeks ago was gone, replaced by a dark amusement. He was going to have his friends break up with me on his behalf. What kind of relationship had I been in for seven years? Too bad for them. They wouldn’t get to see me humiliated. This time, I was the one leaving first. A waiter pushed a cart of drinks past, and the door swung open, silencing the conversation inside. I walked in, a practiced smile on my face, greeting everyone as if nothing had happened. A few minutes later, Nicholas returned with a woman I’d never met. She looked vaguely familiar, a stranger who shared three or four of my features. He introduced her around the room before finally bringing her to me. “This is my childhood friend, Aria.” Aria extended a hand gracefully. Nicholas hesitated for a beat before introducing me. “And this… is a friend of mine, Nina Collins.” 3 The party roared back to life. Aria was an extrovert, easily charming everyone in the room. She held court, playing drinking games and laughing loudly, leaving the few other girlfriends in attendance on the sidelines. At one point, she was holding cards and wanted a piece of watermelon. Without a thought, Nicholas speared a piece with his own fork and fed it to her. She took it just as casually, then grabbed his wine glass and took a long drink, leaving a bright red lipstick stain on the rim. I watched from a few feet away as Nicholas held that glass, his thumb tracing the lipstick mark, and drank from that exact spot, again and again. Finally, it was time for the cake. The room quieted. I rose and pushed the cart forward, lighting the candles. Staring at the number ‘28,’ Nicholas rubbed his temples as if trying to clear his head. His gaze, hazy with alcohol, swept the room and landed on Aria. He held up a finger. “This year, instead of a wish, I have a question.” His finger curled, pointing directly at her. His voice was thick but his eyes were burning. “Aria, you’re almost twenty-eight. I want to ask you… do you have a boyfriend right now?” A stunned silence fell. Then, Aria, after a slight pause, answered. “Right now? No.” A collective “Whoa!” erupted, and the room exploded. His drunk friends mobbed him, singing and dancing. I sat perfectly still, a silent observer playing the part of the clueless “friend.” The party finally ended in the early hours of the morning. I helped a very drunk Nicholas into the car. He collapsed against my shoulder, his inhibitions washed away by alcohol and joy, and poured out his heart. “Aria, don’t go. Stay with me, please?” “Why can they have you, but I can’t, Aria?” “Aria, do you know how much I love you?” “I’ve waited for you for so many years…” The female driver kept glancing at us in the rearview mirror, smirking. As she helped me get him upstairs, she remarked, “Your boyfriend really loves you, Aria.” I smiled faintly. “He does. But I’m not Aria.” The next morning, hungover and remembering the previous night, Nicholas rushed to explain. “Nina, I was so drunk last night. I probably said a lot of stupid things. Don’t take it to heart.” I hadn’t expected him to remember, or to come up with such a flimsy excuse. Still, I played along. “It’s okay. I know.” My placid reaction seemed to unnerve him. He changed the subject. “I’m sorry I ignored you last night. Let’s go on a date after work today, okay? To make it up to you.” “I’m not angry. But I have plans this afternoon. I can’t.” My refusal only made him more insistent. I finally relented. That evening, as I was getting ready, a text from Chloe popped up. “Nina, you didn’t tell your boyfriend you quit? He just came by looking for you. He seems really mad.” Before I could finish reading, his call came through. His voice was laced with fury. “Your colleague told me you quit your job? To get married?” 4 “I told you, I have no plans to get married right now!” he continued, his voice rising. So that’s what this was about. He thought I was trying to force his hand. “It was just a joke with my colleagues,” I explained patiently. “They must have taken it seriously. I quit because I was tired and wanted a break.” His tone softened. “Don’t make jokes like that again.” He asked where I was, offering to pick me up. I was about to give him the address when I heard a faint laugh in the background. It sounded exactly like Aria. I remembered seeing a selfie she’d posted from inside a car just moments before. She was with him. The “okay” on my lips turned into a “no need.” He hung up quickly. Too quickly. If he really wanted to pick me up, he wouldn’t have been in such a rush. It was just an empty gesture. I hailed a cab and went to the restaurant we’d agreed on. The hostess led me to a private room on the top floor. The table was laden with food, but the room was empty. “Mr. Chen called ten minutes ago,” the hostess explained. “He said you should start without him, as he was delayed by an urgent matter.” An urgent matter. Of course. He was with Aria. I suppose it wasn’t a lie. To him, anything involving her was an urgent matter. I sat down. The table was filled with seafood. I’d grown tired of it during my years in Europe. In the past, I would have forced myself to eat it for his sake. Not anymore. I waved the waitress over and had her clear the entire table. “Ma’am,” she hesitated, “Mr. Chen has already paid for this. It’s quite expensive, and we don’t offer refunds.” I handed her my card. “I know. Just charge the new order to this.” He never showed up. I finished my meal, paid, and went home. On the way, he texted. “Nina, can you stay somewhere else tonight?” “Aria’s back suddenly, and her old place isn’t ready. The lights are broken.” “She’s afraid of the dark. I want her to stay here for the night. Is that okay?” Juggling his precious Aria while trying to keep our relationship a secret from her. How amusing. This time, I didn’t play along. “Why do you have to hide our relationship from your ‘friend’? How long are you planning on keeping this up?” His reply came much later. No explanation. Just a date. “January 18th.”

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